


Zombieland

by Katana_Black



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Gladiolus Amicitia, Boys Being Boys, Comfort, Demisexual Noctis Lucis Caelum, Emotional Support Tank Gladio, Friendship/Love, Gladio and Prompto Talk About Feelings, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gun Violence, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Homosexual Prompto Argentum, Humor, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi, No beta we die like zombies, Noctis and Ignis Do Not, Pansexual Ignis Scientia, Polyamorous relationship, Polyship Roadtrip (Final Fantasy XV), Zombie Apocalypse, badass prompto, blatant disobedience, friendly violence, zombie gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27320776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katana_Black/pseuds/Katana_Black
Summary: Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis are on summer vacation in Altissia when a zombie outbreak occurs. They've got swords, knives, and Ignis' Tenebraen accent. Prompto is visiting his sister in Gralea on summer vacation when a zombie outbreak occurs. He acquires a gun and a chainsaw. This is a story of four (dumb) boys fighting zombies and acute anxiety to get back home, make sure their families are okay, and maybe trade some kisses along the way.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. The News

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all. happy halloween! this here's an extremely self indulgent fic that we started a looooong time ago because of a two line tumblr post about prom showing up to their fights with a glock and a chainsaw and as you well know we can't have a single coherent thought without it spiraling into absolute madness. it's mostly finished, we just have a bit at the end to sort through, but we wanted to post it on halloween as a sort of last halloween hurrah gift that'll keep on giving for a few days in these trying times. we'll update the tags as we go along, cause it's a mixed bag of humour and seriousness, but it's fairly lighthearted overall. happy ending for sure. 
> 
> anyway, have some zombies and boys and guns and chainsaws and kisses. hope you enjoy.

**I.**

"We sure picked a shitty time to go on vacation," Gladiolus Amicita says as he, his boyfriends, and Luna somberly watch the news report on the TV in the parlour. 

Of course, the time itself wasn't inherently shitty. One could even argue they had picked the  _ best _ time to leave the city. Noctis himself is reminded of his own father’s words a few days ago, when this whole shitstorm first started getting news coverage: “You boys got out at the perfect time,” he’d said with a chuckle. He only hopes that wasn’t the last time he would hear his father’s voice.

The vacation itself was a combination of a 21st birthday party for Noctis and a reunion holiday with the Nox Fleuret children, Lunafreya and Ravus, at their summer home in Altissia. They really couldn’t ask for a better occasion upon which to plan a two week vacation. When Noctis, Ignis, and Gladio had left Galdin Quay aboard the Lucis Caelum yacht, they were prepared for the birthday bash of a lifetime. 

A week later, the events that had unfolded just after they’d left Insomnia virtually assured that they were in for the worst time of their lives.

"We have to go back," Noctis finally says, tearing his eyes away from the screen. "We have to get back to Insomnia." He glances around at everyone's faces when no one immediately agrees with him. "Are you fucking serious--"

"We'll need weapons," Ignis states, before Noctis can truly work himself up. "And we'll need to leave immediately if we want any hope of getting there before they lockdown the city."

"What kind of weapons even work against these...zombies," Gladio says slowly, as if he can't even believe he's saying the word in serious conversation. 

"Guns," Noct chimes in. "We definitely need guns."

"First of all, Noctis Lucis Caelum, you don’t even know how to use a firearm," Ignis says with a scoff. “And before you start, no, video games don’t count. No, I don’t care how hyperrealistic it is. No, not even in VR. Have I missed anything?”

“I bet dad would let me have one,” Noctis grumbles.

“Your father would give you a pet coeurl to make you happy, and then tell  _ me _ to mind the leash,” Ignis says curtly, garnering a snort of laughter from Noctis. "Secondly, and more importantly, guns are illegal in every country except Nifleheim. Acquiring them would take far more time than we have at the moment."

Noct, Gladio, and Luna all stare at Ignis, who only raises an eyebrow in question. 

" _ That's _ the primary issue here," Noct says, "time constraints."

"...Yes."

"I always forget how low-key scary you are,” Noctis says after a moment. “Thanks for the reminder."

"Ravus' armory," Luna exclaims, darting up from the couch. "You could use something from there." She doesn't wait to explain but sets off immediately for one of the upper wings of the estate, and the three men follow behind. Gladio walks beside Luna, while Noctis slips his hand around Ignis’ waist and into his pocket, tethering the man to his side.

"Doesn't Ravus collect, like, swords and shit?" Gladio asks. 

"Weaponry of all sorts," Luna clarifies, "although I'm fairly certain even he doesn't have any guns. But Noct, you were rather accomplished at fencing if I recall our matches correctly, and Ignis, aren't you quite proficient with a knife?"

"Both in and out of the kitchen, my lady," he replies gracefully.

Gladio snorts. "Proficient, my ass," he says. "Iggy came out the womb with a knife in each hand."

Luna giggles. "I'm not sure what your weapon expertise is, Gladio, but I do believe Ravus has a selection of broadswords," she says. 

"Big and sharp is right up my alley," he agrees, flexing his muscles.

They come to a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, and Luna takes them inside without preamble. The room would be just as appropriate were it housed in a museum rather than a pharmaceutical magnate's Altissian estate. Dozens of weapons are on display, ranging from intricately filigreed daggers to a pair of massive broadswords that are at least as long as Noctis is tall, and just as wide.

“Oh, man,” Gladio says, already making his way over to them. “Come to  _ daddy _ .”

Luna is surprisingly knowledgeable about many of the weapons, picking out a pair of daggers for Ignis and a one-handed sword for Noct. A section dedicated to polearms catches Ignis’ eye, and he wanders over to assess them.

“Oh, yeah,” Noct says. “You did color guard in high school, didn’t you?”

Ignis nods his assent, choosing one of the smaller glaives with a hum. “A rather calculated decision, if I may admit, after I assessed that some of the skills might hold a real world application,” he says, hefting the weapon. After making sure he’s clear in all directions, he assumes a stance with the bladed end over his shoulder. The muscle memory kicks in fairly quickly, and soon he’s twirling the weapon across, in front, behind, and around his body, wielding a lethal weapon with the grace of a ballerina. He gets comfortable enough to pull off some one handed tosses, and the other three are entranced. Being used to having a trail on the poles he’s handled, Ignis has no problem maintaining the blade away from his body, and it’s much lighter to boot. Which, in hindsight, might be the exact reason why, on his next pass, he catches the glaive with a little more force than necessary, bringing the blade against the floor in a sharp gouge. Everyone in the room startles, including Ignis himself.

“Shit,” he gasps, staring at the damaged floor, and then up at Luna. “Sorry.”

A wide-eyed Luna waves him off. “That was bloody fantastic,” she says breathlessly. “You really must take--”

“Lunafreya, are you--what the fuck are you doing?”

A second startle in as many minutes has them all pointing whatever weapon they were holding at the new intruder. Ravus Nox Fleuret stands shocked for approximately half a second before he sighs. “Luna,” he says tiredly, “put the trident down.”

Luna gives off a nervous laugh as they all lower their weapons. “Ravus,” she says, tilting her head in greeting.

“Have you seen the news?” he bluntly asks.

The mood dips for a moment as they all remember exactly why they’re raiding Ravus’ armory. Luna nods.

“Mother wishes for you to stay here,” he informs her. “She says she’s safe at the manor. They’ve got the place locked down, and more than enough supplies to last a month, at least.”

“A month?! Surely we wouldn’t have to…”

Ravus shakes his head. “At this point, honestly, who knows,” he says. “She had a point, though. Better for you to stay here, where there haven’t been any cases of this...disease, than to risk travel, and…”

His jaw tightens as he considers the consequences of making the wrong choice. It’s a mistake he’d much rather avoid making if at all possible.

“And what about you?” Luna asks. The unspoken question is,  _ What does our country want of their Capitaine de Corvette Nox Fleuret? _

“For once,” he says, “they’re being reasonable. Even though I am a high ranking officer, because I’m in an area as yet unaffected by this thing, they want me to remain here, on standby.”

“Well, then,,” Luna says, relief evident on her face that she won’t be incarcerated alone.

Ravus nods. He runs his right hand through his hair with a sigh. “And what are you three idiots up to,” he asks, “although I bet I can guess.”

“We  _ have _ to go back,” Noctis says after a few moments of silence. “We haven’t heard from anyone. Dad, Clarus, hell, I’d even take Nyx at this point. I don’t...if they...” His words falter, but Ravus notices the way the younger man’s hand tightens on the hilt of the sword he’s holding. He bites back another sigh; sometimes, there’s just no helping it.

He stomps over to Noctis and snatches the sword out of his hand, ignoring his protests. Instead, he leans the sword against the wall and ducks behind one of the displays, pulling out a hidden case and setting it atop one of the larger glass displays. He pops the clasps on the case and pulls out the blade inside, brandishing it with a slight flourish.

The blade is onyx black, save for the edges that are painted a bright red. The shape of it differs from a traditional sword; it’s a much thicker triangle than the rapiers and short swords to which Noctis is accustomed. As Ravus flips his hold to offer Noct the grip, Noct notices the grip itself is fashioned somewhat like the grip of a gun, and the guard is a hooked line of metal connecting the butt to the frontside of the blade.

“It was to be your birthday present,” Ravus admits. He’s barely looking at Noctis, and there’s a slight blush on his cheeks. “I suppose I might as well give it to you early, considering. She’s not just for show; she’s perfectly functional. I saw it, and I...thought the aesthetic suited you.”

Noct can only stare with his mouth open. It’s a  _ beautiful _ blade--even he can tell that--and he can’t believe Ravus is giving it to him as a present. They don't hate each other exactly, but they get along basically as well as a mongoose and a cobra. Noctis routinely makes jokes at the expense of man's transhumeral prosthesis, Ravus regularly retaliates with various "accidents" that fall just short of manslaughter. The whole thing is a lovely cycle, and  _ this _ is very much not a part. It’s not until Ravus shakes his hand at him impatiently that Noct dares grab the sword, and as soon as he does, he’s in love.

“Does she have a name?” he asks reverently.

“Ironically enough...Ragnarok,” Ravus says, lips twisted in a smirk.

  
Ignis lets out a laugh disguised as a cough, and says, “How appropriate.”

Ravus then turns his attention to the bespectacled man. “And  _ you _ ,” he says, leaving Noctis to his new weapon, “I have no idea what you think you’re going to accomplish with  _ that _ . If you want something that will do you any good in the field…”


	2. The Accident

**II.**

It’s an hour and a half later, but the trio is finally prepared for their journey back across the sea. Well--as prepared as they can be; if Noctis had his way, they’d all be wearing full tactical gear, helmets, kneepads, and all. A T-shirt and jeans (or in Ignis’ case, a button down and khakis) will just have to do. Bags packed and weapons stowed, they stand on the docks exchanging hugs and well wishes with the Nox Fleuret siblings.

“I’ll try to contact you every few hours,” Luna says. “I know communications are spotty in Lucis, but--”

“Thanks,” Noctis says. He doesn't want to think about how he and Gladio still can't get in contact with his dad or Clarus. “I really appreciate it.”

"Scientia," Ravus warns icily, “ruin that glaive, and I’ll ruin you."

“I’d like to see you try, Fleuret,” Ignis replies with a glare.

“If you pretty boys are done flirting,” Gladio says, “we’re trying to get on the road sometime this century.”

"Yeah," Noct says with an evil smirk, "not to  _ cut off  _ such a romantic display, but you're  _ single-handedly _ holding up our departure, Captain Ra-violi."

With a minimal amount of flustered denials that "for the last time, Gladio, death threats do not qualify as flirting," and hearty promises of retribution "if the godsdamned zombies don't eat your wretched arse first," the appropriate parties separate onto land and water. Noctis insists on waving to Luna until they can’t see her anymore, so Ignis pilots the _ Aurora _ out of Altissian waters and onto the open sea. Once they’re free, Noctis is more than happy to take over. The  _ Aurora _ is one of his favorite places to be, the glittering expanse of water a perfect backdrop for anything from introspective thoughts to mindless relaxation. Plus, fishing. Noct frowns as he realizes he’s probably not gonna get any more fishing in before the start of next semester--and shit, is there even going to be a next semester?--but he shakes the thoughts with a literal shake of his head. Bigger fish to fry at the moment.

He chuckles to himself. Ignis would have been proud of that one.

The trip back to Galdin is a little over two hours, and most of the ride is spent in comfortable silence. At some point Noct starts making a ‘zombocalypse’ playlist, and both Ignis and Gladio make notable additions. They share a bit of banter over what constitutes appropriate zombie killing music; Ignis seems to prefer classical pieces that would be more appropriate for a late night library session. “It’s relaxing,” he says. “If you remain tense during an intense workout, you run a higher risk of injury. And there’s a certain poetic elegance, don’t you think?”

“I’m more concerned with the fact that you think zombie killing is elegant,” Noct says.

“‘Cause it’s fuckin’ not,” Gladio adds. “Forget elegance, you need hype music.” He puts several bass heavy songs with slow moving but hard hitting beats on the list.

“Worst case scenario,” Noct says with a snicker, “just toss a pair of headphones at them and turn up the bass boost.”

“Oh, like you have room to talk over there,” Gladio retorts, “Mr. Bubblegum Pop Princess.”

“Rude,” Noct says, flipping him off. But Gladio’s not wrong; Noct’s input runs mostly towards the pop hits in his preferred genre du jour, anyway.

About a half hour away from shore, Ignis calls for a strategic meeting. “If our ultimate goal is to infiltrate Insomnia, we’ll need to establish a detailed course of action,” he says.

“Dude, chill,” Noct says, holding the wheel between his knees as he taps away on his phone, rearranging their playlist. “Why do you make everything we do sound like black ops?”

“Because  _ someone _ has to take this endeavour seriously,” Ignis snipes back, “and obviously, it isn’t going to be you.”

“I  _ am _ taking this seriously,” Noct says, dropping his feet to the floor in a sudden movement and pinning Ignis with a sharp gaze. “We dock at Galdin. We take the  _ Regalia  _ back to Insomnia.”

“Hopefully the  _ Regalia  _ will still be where we left her,” Gladio interrupts.

“And hopefully in one piece,” Ignis adds.

Noct tries to come up with a response but honestly, he hadn’t even considered that. “Shit,” he mutters. “Do you think that’s a real possibility?”

Ignis only sighs, sensing Noct has given up the argument. “It’s no matter, really,” he says. “If the  _ Regalia _ is unavailable, we’ll simply have to hotwire the nearest unoccupied vehicle.”

Gladio and Noctis eye each other, both of them speechless. “Uhh…”

“Do you know how to do that?” Gladio asks the pertinent question, whereas Noct only sits with a pretty strong suspicion. “‘Cause I don’t, and Noct definitely doesn’t, so…”

“I wouldn’t mention it as a plan if at least one of us didn’t have that knowledge,” Ignis states succinctly.

Noct wonders why he was even mildly surprised, and Gladio’s got his eyes narrowed in concern. “I didn’t say anything about the gun thing,” he says, “but where are all these vaguely illegal skillsets suddenly coming from?”

Ignis gently adjusts his glasses with a gloved hand. “The wilderness isn’t the only jungle in which one may have to survive, Gladiolus,” he says, and Noctis chuckles softly.

“Dunno why you’re shocked, Gladio,” he says. “I bet Specs could make me breakfast, go to Tenebrae and steal the original Mona Lisa, pick me up some tarts, and be back in time to cook dinner.”

The fact that Ignis appears genuinely thoughtful for a moment does things to Noctis that he gently pushes to the back of his brain for reexamination _ later _ . Finally, Ignis says with a small grin, “It might be a bit of a late supper, depending on traffic.”

They all have a laugh at that, and Ignis steers the conversation back to his original assertion. “It appears we’re agreed on locating automotive transportation once we arrive in Galdin,” he says, “and Insomnia is only a three hour drive. Shall we press straight through?”

“Three hours driving is easy,” Noct says. “I say we go for it.”

Gladio crosses his arms. “By the time we get to Galdin, it’ll be evening,” he says. “We don’t know what the situation will be like. Driving at night might be too dangerous.”

“If it’s too dangerous to drive, then staying in one spot may be just as unsafe,” Ignis points out. “I agree with Noct that we should move as quickly as possible.”

“That’s fair,”” Gladio says. “But we should make at least one pit stop, for gas and whatever supplies we can get. Medical, water, food. Agreed?”

The three of them nod. “It’s settled, then,” Ignis says. “I’ll take over driving once we hit land, and we’ll continue to assess the situation as necessary.”

When they finally dock at Galdin Quay, Gladio makes sure he’s the first one off the boat. “You two wait here,” he said, hefting his greatsword. “I’ll go check things out and make sure it’s clear.”

“Don’t be a fucking martyr,” Noctis says, briefly grabbing onto the back of Gladio’s tankk top before letting him go. “You hear any weird noises, come straight back.”

He and Ignis watch Gladio as far as they can, until he disappears up the stairs and into the restaurant proper. It’s unsettlingly quiet for a seaside resort in peak season.

Five minutes later, Ignis is about to suggest they go after him when Gladio comes jogging back. Noctis lets loose a heavy sigh, a sentiment Ignis echoes. Up close, Gladio seems a touch pale, but is otherwise unharmed.

“It’s fine,” he says, giving Ignis a hard stare. “Let’s grab our bags and head out.” But Ignis has worked with Gladio to protect Noctis long enough to know what the man  _ didn’t _ say. As they make their way through the open air restaurant towards the parking lot, Ignis and Gladio subtly work to keep Noctis’ vision blocked. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything about it. 

They’re all surprised to see the  _ Regalia _ miraculously untouched.

“Well, the fact that it  _ is _ the highly recognizable trademark vehicle of the Lucis Caelum empire probably helped,” Ignis comments.

They don’t question their fortune. It’s already pushing 17:45; they’re starting to lose the sun, and all of them would like to make their agreed pitstop with at least a little bit of daylight. It takes some time to transfer all of their baggage to the car, including a tense moment where, despite Ignis’ insistence back at the manor, the glaive almost didn’t fit in the trunk of the  _ Regalia _ . Gladio has the foresight to test the gas pumps, and sure enough, they’re able to fill up the tank before they leave. By six they’re on the road and driving off into the dusty desertscape, Ignis behind the wheel with Gladio as his co-pilot. Phase one, complete.

They’re about an hour out from Galdin, driving through the curves of Saulhend Pass, when Ignis begins to slow down.

“What’s the hold up?” Noct calls from his prone position in the backseat.

“There’s something in the road,” Ignis replies. “Or rather, some _ one _ .”

Noct sits upright, Gladio looks up from his book, and they all stare through the windshield at the figure in the distance.

“Oh, shit, there’s a person in the middle of the road,” Gladio says.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Noct says, punching Gladio in the shoulder. “Is it a zombie?”

Ignis leans forward in his seat. “I can’t quite tell,” he says, “but it seems to be gesticulating wildly.”

“I’m pretty sure a normal person wouldn’t just be dancing in the middle of the godsdamned road,” Gladio states. “I say gun it.”

“Noct?”

“I mean, Gladio’s probably right on this one. Circumstances considered.”

Reassured by both of his companions’ assessments, Ignis reapplies his foot to the acceleration with no restraint. He’s a touch alarmed that Noctis refuses to sit back in his seat and buckle up, especially when they’re about to deliberately engage in a collision, but it’s--

“What the...oh, shit, Ignis stop, stop, stop, STOP, STOOOOOP!”

It’s slightly less Noctis’ words, and slightly more the arm he hooks around Ignis’ neck that causes Ignis to slam on the brakes, sending them sliding across the road. He jerks the wheel to the side, hoping that he can manage to stop in time without either hitting what apparently isn’t a zombie or crashing into the rock faces on either side of them.

The screeching of tires is the only sound Ignis can register in his ears. He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other flung out in front of Gladio in the passenger seat, and hell if he knows what’s happened to Noct. Oh, wait. He does, because the idiot’s arm is still wrapped around his throat in a chokehold. But before he can rail at him, before the car even comes to a complete stop, Noctis has disengaged the locks and is tumbling to the asphalt. Ignis yanks on the emergency brake, but both he and Gladio can only stare incredulously as Noctis picks himself up and runs towards the figure who’s thrown themselves to the side of the road. As Noctis helps them up and Ignis realises it’s an actual person, he slumps over the wheel, grateful that Noct prevented him from committing actual vehicular manslaughter.

For his part, Noct is sincerely grateful that Prompto still maintains that dumb chocobutt hairstyle even in the middle of a potential zombie apocalypse. As soon as they’d gotten in viewing range, and Noct recognized that silly hairdo, he’d screamed at Ignis to stop. Jumping out of the car before it had actually stopped probably hadn’t been the  _ best _ idea, but the light scrapes on his hands are definitely worth his favourite college buddy not getting run the fuck over.

And it really is him. Noctis can’t help the exclamation when he finally gets close enough to see the guy’s face. “Fuck,  _ Prompto?!” _

In typical Prompto fashion, he flashes a pair of finger guns at Noctis. “Hey, man,” he says shakily, “thanks for, you know, not running me over with your car.”


	3. The Boys

**III.**

Prompto's not too proud to admit he's definitely a bit shaky as Noctis helps him to his feet and over to his car. He holds onto Noct's hand all the way into the backseat, only letting go to buckle himself in. "Yeah, so…" he says nervously into the quiet. "That happened, huh?"

"Prom, why in the fresh fuck were you dancing in the middle of the road?"

"I wasn't dancing, you loser! I was waving to get your attention 'cause I recognized your car and I was really hoping you'd give me a ride to Insomnia," Prompto exclaims. Then his face scrunches in confusion. "What the heck are you even doing here, aren't you supposed to be in Altissia?"

"Aren't  _ you _ supposed to be home in Gralea?" Noctis counters. "You said you couldn't come with me 'cause you were visiting your sister."

"I  _ was _ ," Prom says. "Dad's in Insomnia right now on business, and we haven't heard from him since this whole thing started, so I--"

But Noct is already onto the next thing. “Is that a fucking  _ chainsaw? _ ”

Oh, right. In the midst of his close encounter with the front grille of his best friend’s car, he’d almost forgotten he was carrying the thing. “Sure is,” says Prom. “One of the handlers at Wiz’s gave it to me.”

“Can you use it?”

“Well, duh. Wouldn’t be dragging it around if I couldn’t use it.”

“Oh my go-- _ is that a Glock?! _ ”

Prompto jumps a bit as Noctis latches onto his leg, where he’s got his handgun tucked into a thigh holster. “Nah, man,” he says with a laugh. “That’s a Sig P226.”

“You know how to use it?”

“Best shot in the family,” Prom says proudly.

Noctis suddenly sits upright. “Ignis, Gladio,” he says, “you’re fired. Prom is my new bodyguard.”

Gladio takes one look at Prompto and starts laughing. Ignis, however, whirls around in his seat, slamming against his seatbelt when it tries to do its job. “Fired?  _ Fired? _ You can’t fire me, I  _ quit _ ,” he screeches. “Jumping out of a moving car, are you fucking mad? I could kill you myself, you insufferable--” 

Words fail him, and he lets loose a low growl that has Prompto rethinking whether he really wants to stay in this car. To make matters worse, Noct places a finger over Ignis lips, shushing him. “Ignis,” he says calmly, “that’s not even the worst thing I’ve done, and you know it.”

“You know, buddy,” Prom says, “you maybe don’t wanna put your finger that close to his teeth right now.”

“I am feeling quite peckish,” Ignis says, snapping his teeth. Beside him, Gladio is crying from laughing so hard.

Noctis barely snatches his hand back and cradles it close to his chest. “Geez, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll try really hard not to do it again. At least not today.”

“Relax, Iggy,” Gladio says, wiping away tears. “You know he knows how to jump out of a car going twice as fast as you just were. He’s fine.”

Ignis glares back. “It’s the principle of the thing,” he mutters, and turns towards the front. He glances at the rearview mirror. “At any rate, I do apologize for nearly running you over, Prompto.”

Prompto perks up as he realizes the attention is back on himself. “Ah,” he says, “it’s no worries, uh, sir.”

Noctis bursts into laughter, much to Prompto’s confusion. Even Gladio and Ignis are chuckling in the front seats. “Just ‘Ignis’, is fine,” Ignis clarifies.

“That’s right,” Noct says. “You guys have never officially met, have you?”

“I’ve seen ‘em every so often when they’re picking you up for stuff,” Prom says, “and you mention them a lot, but I think this is our first time actually meeting.”

“Ignis, Gladio, this is Prompto, photographer extraordinaire and best guy in all of Lucis--”

“ _ Noctis. _ ”

“--shut up, Prom, it’s true. Prom, this is Ignis and Gladio, my, uh…” Noctis trails off as he thinks of how best to describe the pair of men closer to him than anyone else in the world. “Yeah,” he finally says. “You know.”

Prompto knows they’re his bodyguards, and from the way Noct sometimes talks about them, he’s got a theory that Noct might be dating one or both of them. But now he’s getting the sense that he’s missing something, and he’d eat a live cricket before admitting that. “Right,” he says cheerfully. “Of course, totally.”

Both Gladio and Ignis are indignant. “Your ‘you know’? What the fuck, Noct,” Gladio says, turning around. “I have permanent facial scarring for your sake, and you introduce me as your ‘you know’?”

“Seven years,” Ignis groans. “For seven long years I have devoted my heart, soul, and body to this boy. I have toiled ceaselessly to protect him from life’s ills, to pamper him with life’s joys, to attend to his every wish and whim.”

“Oh, Bahamut strike me,” Noct mumbles.

“For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, through all manner of crisis and celebration,” Ignis continues.

“Wait--are you guys  _ married _ ?” Prompto asks, eyes wide. Noct doesn’t answer him, but he flashes a grin.

“All this,” Ignis says loudly, “to simply be reduced to his ‘you know.’ My life is a complete and irredeemable tragedy. I may as well follow his example and throw myself from the car, too.”

“Oh, gods _ damn _ , Iggy,” Noctis shouts back. “You’re my best boyfriend, is that better?”

Gladio sputters. “ _ He’s _ best boyfriend?! Why’s  _ he  _ best boyfriend?”

“He cooks for me,” Noctis says, as if that explains everything.

“I cook for you,” Gladio retorts.

“Gladio, you cook Cup Noodles.”

“You  _ like _ Cup Noodles.”

“Not as much as I like Iggy’s oyakodon,” Noct says.

“I’d choose you as best boyfriend, big guy,” Prompto chimes in, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he blushes a bright scarlet. The car falls silent, and Prom babbles out an apology.

“I am so sorry, I did  _ not _ mean to say that out loud. At all! I did not mean to say that at all, I mean, what the fuck, Prom, learn to filter…” He finally just presses his hands to his face and hides.

“I like this one,” Gladio says. “We should keep him.”

“Stooooop,” Prompto says, the word muffled behind his fingers. Noctis laughs.

“At any rate,” Ignis says with a gentle smile, “a pleasure to finally meet you, Prompto. If the two of you would put your seatbelts on, I believe the Longwythe rest stop is just a short ways ahead of us. It should be a suitable place to make a quick stop, and evaluate what we’d like to do for the night.”

A couple of seatbelt clicks later, and the freshly formed quartet carry onward.

“So, about that chainsaw…”

“Noctis,  _ no _ .”

“...Fun-sucker.”


	4. The Zombie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no

**IV.**

They arrive at the Longwythe rest area just as the sun disappears behind the distant mountains. Ignis parks the car beside the nearest gas pump, and cuts the engine. They’ve hardly used any gas, but it’s as good a spot as any to plan their attack. Longwythe has a motel and a Crow’s Nest, both places worth checking for supplies.

“We should spli--”

“ _ No way _ .”

Both Prompto and Noctis make the exclamation against Ignis’ idea almost immediately. Prompto is shaking his head.

“No offense, but,” he says, “that’s exactly how the people in horror movies end up dead.”

“Famous last words,” says Noct. “Literally.”

“Noct, have you forgotten that both Gladio and I are  _ literally _ trained bodyguards?” Ignis points out. “I should think we are more than qualified to protect the both of you if necessary.”

“Yeah, trained against normal humans,” Noct says. “You ever fight a zombie?” 

“Would you rather take twice as long grabbing stuff and get jumped in the middle of the night?” Gladio says.

“Wait, Noct has a good point,” Prompto says. “Have any of us actually, you know...run into one of these things?”

“Not us,” Noct answers. “You?”

Prompto shakes his head. They all fall silent, imagining what the beings might be like.

Ignis, quick to recognize unproductive thought processes, clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “We’re going to split up,” he states firmly, silencing Noct’s protests with a look. “Noctis, you will come with me, and we will search the diner. Prompto, if you would be so kind as to go with Gladio and search the motel. Things like medical supplies and foodstuffs are our primary target. We don’t know what we may encounter on the way to Insomnia, and we certainly don’t know what state the city will be in when we arrive. We will not leave things to chance.”

“Yes, sir,” Noct says, with only a hint of petulance in his voice. “Gladio, pop the trunk.”

They all exit the vehicle and join Noctis at the rear. He’s already got Ragnarok in his hands, and Prompto is visibly impressed. “Whoa, that’s a pretty cool sword, dude,” he says. And then his eyes land on Gladio. 

“And  _ that’s  _ as big as I am, what the heck? How?” His jaw drops open as Gladio effortlessly lifts the greatsword over his shoulder. It’s essentially a long, rectangular slab of metal with sharpened edges, a weapon made for straight up crushing that, in a pinch, could potentially be used as a shield.

“These muscles ain’t just for show, Blondie,” he says with a smug grin.

Prompto blushes, and his eyes pan over to Ignis, who’s casually flipping a pair of blades in his hands. Ostensibly, they’re some kind of dagger, given that they’re nowhere near as large as Gladio’s sword, or even Noct’s blade. But each one is still the length of Ignis’ forearm, and Prompto is both intimidated and entranced.

“Kukris,” Ignis comments, noticing Prompto’s stare. “I’m told they’re Galahdian in origin.”

“R-right,” he says, and ducks his head to busy himself with checking and loading his handgun. A Sig and a chainsaw. He showed up to a knife fight with a Sig and a chainsaw. Shiva help him.

He doesn’t realize he’s actually said it out loud until Noct fist bumps his shoulder. “Dude,” he says, “I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around.  _ We _ showed up to a gun fight with knives.  _ You _ showed up to the gun fight like Leon freaking Kennedy.”

Ignis only rolls his eyes at the pointed look Noct gives him.

“We all set?” Gladio’s hand lands heavy on Prompto’s other shoulder, and he’s quick to double check his safety. When he’s done, he glances up. Ignis and Gladio each have an emptied out duffle slung over their shoulder, for anything useful they might find. Prom’s got his chainsaw hanging in a tactical sling across his chest, and his backpack over both shoulders. Noct makes a handful of practice swings, and then meets Prom’s eye. He nods once, and Prom nods back.

“Alright,” Ignis says, glancing at his phone. “We’ll give this ten minutes, tops. Regardless of whether you find something or not, we’ll all return to the car when ten minutes has passed. Agreed?”

They all murmur their assent and separate out into pairs: Noct by Ignis’ side, and Prompto hovering just behind Gladio. “No chances,” Gladio says, staring Ignis in the eyes. “Anything seems dodgy, you get right the fuck outta there.”

“Likewise,” Ignis says, and turns sharply on his heel towards the diner.

Gladio nods once, and then turns to Prompto. “Alright, chocoboy, you’re with me,” he says, taking long strides towards the front of the motel.

“Ch-chocoboy?!”

“Shhhhh,” Gladio hushes. “I’ll take point, watch my back.”

Prompto falls in line behind Gladio as he pushes the door open, turning and sweeping the areas of the room Gladio wasn’t facing with his gun raised. Neither of them see any movement, so they head to the front desk.

“Jackpot,” Gladio says after vaulting over and checking underneath. He pulls out a fully stocked first aid kit, as well as a basic car emergency kit. As he rifles through it, he says quietly, “The  _ Regalia _ is already well stocked, but it never hurts to have extras, right?”

“Yeah,” Prom says, answering Gladio’s reassuring smile with one of his own.

“You wanna check the rooms, too? There’s not that many, but we also pretty much got what we came for,” Gladio says.

Prompto thinks about it, and then says on a soft sigh, “Pillows.”

Both of Gladio’s eyebrows shoot up. 

“I mean,” Prom hurries to explain himself, “it’s just been a couple days since I’ve gotten a decent sleep, and I was thinking--not that we have to stop or anything! I mean, even just in the car…”

Gladio laughs gently. “A soldier’s no good if he’s dead on his feet,” he says. “There’s not that many rooms, it’ll be easy to do a quick search. Let’s go.”

As they head down the single hallway in the motel, Prompto suddenly grabs Gladio’s arm. “Wait,” he says timidly. “Uh, actually. I think--um. I think it’d be better if I took point?”

“Are you asking, or telling me?”

“Telling,” Prompto decides firmly, pulling a small, slim stick from his pack. “I know I don’t  _ look  _ like much, but I...I really am a good shot. And if there’s anything behind one of these doors, I’ll have a quicker reaction time with my gun than you will with that sword. Not to mention these rooms are pretty small, would you even have room to swing that thi--”

“Alright, I get it,” Gladio says in a good-natured grumble. “You lead.”

And gods, does he lead. Gladio is floored at the way Prompto opens each door, scans each corner, flashes his penlight underneath the beds, and leaves once he’s ascertained there’s no threat. It takes no longer than ten seconds for him to softly call out, “Clear,” for each room--and there’s only six rooms total. In just over a minute and a half, Prom’s cleared the entire motel, and Gladio is left wondering just who exactly the fuck Prompto really is.

“What the fuck was  _ that _ ?” Gladio hisses tightly as Prompto flicks his safety and holsters his weapon.

“Huh?” Prompto is so focused on his target--he doesn’t care how abused those pillows are, they’re  _ pillows _ and they’re  _ his _ \--he doesn’t register the odd note in Gladio’s voice.

“Fuckin’--the whole fuckin’ tac team captain schtick just now,” Gladio splutters.

“What schtick?” Prompto blissfully hugs three pillows to his face with a soft moan.

Gladio opens his mouth to respond, shuts it, opens it, and then shuts it again. He shakes his head. “You know what,” he says, “let’s just get the fuck outta here.”

***

Ignis strides confidently into the Crow’s Nest Diner, Noctis right on his heels. “Guard my six,” Ignis says softly.

“Your  _ what _ ?”

“My six--my  _ back _ , Noctis, honestly, you play enough video games,” Ignis hisses in exasperation.

“Sorry, sorry, misheard you,” Noct says. But he stays back-to-back with Ignis as they do an initial scan of the place. All Ignis can see is the innumerable places a zombie could hide: diner booths stretch along the entire front wall, and the service counter similarly traverses the length of the building. They check each and every booth, and then travel together towards the service counter. Ignis makes sure to hold Noctis back as he checks first, and he’s glad he does; what appears to be a pair of mangled bodies lies on the floor at the far end behind the counter. He manages to mutilate his gasp, keeping Noctis none the wiser.

“Stay out here,” he says in a level voice. “I’m going to check the stock room. Don’t follow me, and don’t look behind the counter.”

Noctis immediately glances towards the counter. “What’s behind the counter?”

“Nothing you need to see,” Ignis says sternly. “Noctis. Please. If ever there was a time when you listened to me without question, this is it. Do not go behind that counter.”

Any argument Noct is thinking of throwing out, even jokingly, dies at how sombre Ignis’ tone is. “Okay,” he agrees. “I’ll just stay out here. Keep...guard.”

Ignis nods, and then disappears into the backroom of the diner. Noctis’ resolve lasts for all of two minutes.

After all, if this is to be his new normal, he’d better get used to it fast, right? No sense in trying to protect his sheltered eyes from the cruelties of a harsh reality. He might as well adjust to the sights of a post-apocalyptic world as quickly as possible, so he doesn’t bring down the team. With these things in mind, he begins to creep around the edge of the counter.

He’s not stupid; he doesn’t just charge in. Noct sits in a squat at the corner and peeps. He’s 100% certain Ignis would not have left him out here alone with an active threat, but it never hurts to check. He can’t hear or see anything moving, so, with his blade held out in front of himself, Noct moves in closer. He duck-walks forward, holding the blade across his body, until he realizes why Ignis told him not to look.

In all honesty, the smell hits him before his brain can process any visuals. It’s like spoiled milk times a thousand, coupled with the stench from a dumpster sitting under direct sun after a full week without collection. It’s enough to make him gag and turn away for a moment, but he’s not permanently deterred. He wants to see this through. So, with his shirt tugged up over his nose, Noctis turns back to get an actual visual on what smells so horribly. 

He regrets it  _ instantly _ . It’s a pair of bodies, one lying flat on the ground and the other slumped over it. The one slumped over is only at chest level, so Noctis can clearly see how the skull of the one lying down has been bashed in. Where there--Noctis can feel the bile rising in his throat again but firmly swallows it down--where there should have been a brain is nothing but an empty cavity. The deteriorating body sitting above it doesn’t fare much better, but its jaw works excessively slowly in a crude facsimile of proper chewing. 

Wait.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Noct says out loud. “Shit. Oh, fuck. Fuck.” 

He tries to call for Ignis but what comes out is a strangled shriek; Noct isn’t even sure it was loud enough to be heard by another human being. But the zombie hears it just fine, and slowly turns its head towards him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Noctis chants, and then he’s full on screaming, “ _ IGNIS!” _

He can hear Ignis’ response as he crawls backwards on his hands. His boyfriend calls his name in a frantic shout, and Noct can hear him colliding into things in his haste to get back. Thankfully, the zombie is slow as well; whether from lack of nutrition or straight up biology, Noctis doesn’t know and doesn’t care. But the zombie is completely over it once it realizes there’s fresh meat in sights. 

By the time Noctis scrambles to his feet, the zombie is already crouched in an attack position, and  _ thank Eos _ that’s when Ignis finally bursts through the door from the backroom. The split second distraction is all it takes for Ignis to grab Noctis by the arm and start hauling him to the door, and not a second too soon; the moment they start moving again, the zombie dashes after them, following right on their heels.

They make it to the front door, and Ignis barely spares a glance backwards as it rebounds in the zombie’s face. The zombie, as it were, doesn’t give a single fuck, crashing straight through the ancient single-pane door and picking itself up like nothing had happened. Ignis can literally feel his heart skip a beat, and he glances across the street. Prompto and Gladio are already at the car, faces painted with shock. 

“ _ GO, _ ” Ignis screams, throwing Noctis forward, “ _ get to the car! _ ”

Noctis stumbles forward a few feet thanks to Ignis’ strength, but manages to catch himself in time. He glances backwards, thoroughly worried, but Ignis is keeping pace with him, and Noctis focuses ahead.

Gladio is in the driver’s seat and already has the doors open, but Prompto is still outside the car and advancing, both hands firmly gripped on his gun. “ _ Get in the fucking car,” _ he shouts.

He stops just as Ignis catches up to Noctis and flings the brunette into the backseat. He stops, because he’s firing mercilessly into the skull of the zombie that’s following them, unloading his entire clip with unerring accuracy. The zombie falls long before the clip is empty, but Prompto keeps firing. 

And he  _ keeps _ firing, even after his clip is empty, even though it’s just  _ click click click _ until Ignis snags him by the waistband and hauls him into the backseat. Gladio has his foot pressed to the accelerator before the doors are even fully closed, and no one has a single complaint. Prompto, Ignis, and Noctis are piled together in one corner of the backseat, but they’re all alive, and better yet, there’s nothing chasing them in the rearview mirror.

“Fuck,” Gladio breathes, glancing rapidly between the rearview mirror and the road in front of him. The only response he gets is the rapid-fire breathing from everyone in the backseat. “Fuck. Is everyone okay?”

There’s no verbal response, but Ignis physically pats down both of the men in the backseat with him, and once he’s ascertained that neither are physically harmed, he looks to Gladio in the mirror again with a brief nod.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.” And he keeps driving with the pedal pressed to the floor.

They don’t make it very far down the road. Out of the steadfast silence, suddenly Noctis speaks up. “Gladio, pull over,” he chokes out. “ _ Now _ .”

Gladio glances in the mirror but immediately pulls to the side of the road. In a far more distressing parody of earlier occurrences, Noctis once again jumps out of the vehicle before it comes to a full stop, but this time, he stumbles a few paces before dropping to his knees to retch the entire contents of his stomach.

Ignis shares a look with Gladio and follows immediately after Noctis, kneeling in the grass with a soothing hand on the younger man’s back. Gladio searches the car for a bottle of water and, finding one in the bag Ignis managed to hang on to despite their quick escape, heads out to offer it to Noct.

Noctis is nowhere near being able to consume water yet. Still, Gladio passes the bottle to Ignis, who accepts it gratefully. When it’s obvious that Noct is going to continue violently heaving, even on an empty stomach, Ignis tilts his head back towards the car. Gladio nods, okay with waiting at the car when Ignis has got things under control. Plus, there’s Prompto to consider. He gets back and slides into the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Prom,” he calls out, turning his head towards the backseat. But there’s no one there. “What the… _ Prom? _ ”

A spike of fear lances through Gladio’s chest. The kid was here a second ago, there’s no way something could have come and dragged him away without any of them noticing, which means...Gladio jumps out of the car just as quickly and takes a look around, focusing on areas further away. He spots Prompto easily on the other side of the road, curled in on himself with his forehead against his knees. Gladio recognizes the position all too easily.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he whispers to himself, and finds himself scrambling for another water bottle and running over before he even realizes it.


	5. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhhh nooooo
> 
> (chapter warning for anxiety attack)

**V.**

Prompto is not having a great time. In fact, he might possibly be having the worst time of his short, simple life. He can’t breathe, and he knows he can’t breathe, but he’s trying to breathe--he’s got his hands cupped over his mouth and nose to try and regulate his oxygen intake--but it’s not working, and fuck, this might be the worst anxiety attack he’s ever had in his life. He _hears_ himself wheezing but there’s nothing he can do about it; just the sound of himself not breathing is making him even more anxious.

And on top of it all is the phrase that started it all, repeating ad nauseam in his head: _“I killed a human being.”_

His chest is tightening by the second and the only sound that escapes his lips is a shrill whistle and he can see Gladio approaching him slowly from the corner of his eye and more tears slip from his eyes at the thought that someone like _Gladio_ is seeing him like this. It’s the last thing he thinks he needs, and he can’t even sob appropriately about it, because he _can’t breathe._

Gladio drops to his knees a good four feet away. “Hey, Prom,” he calls out. “You don’t look like you’re doing so hot. Is it okay if I come closer?”

He takes the incredulous look and jerky nod he gets as permission to get closer, and Gladio shuffles in a couple feet. “Is this still okay?” he asks.

Prompto clearly nods at this point, although he’s still wheezing behind his hands, and Gladio is still concerned. “Can you tell me what you need? Or show me,” he amends, considering the kid can’t even breathe, much less speak.

Prompto takes a couple of painful sounding breaths, and then quickly reaches out an arm towards Gladio. He rapidly opens and closes his hand in a grabby motion, and Gladio is quick to comply. He moves forward just close enough to take Prompto’s hand in his, and he’s surprised at the strength of the grip.

“Okay,” he says, reassessing the situation. “Do you want me closer?”

Prompto slides a teary glance his way and manages to nod his assent. The tears pour faster the longer he holds onto Gladio, and Gladio takes that as a green light to move in. He keeps moving slowly until he’s just in front of Prompto, and then, so quickly it’s startling, Prom is in his lap. He’s kinda crooked, having just thrown himself at Gladio, but Gladio readjusts them so that Prompto’s fully ensconced in his embrace. He’s got both legs wrapped criss-cross style around Prompto, who’s facing him and sitting _seiza_ in his grasp, both hands now wrapped firmly in the front of Gladio’s shirt. His face is pressed firmly against Gladio’s chest, and he can _feel_ Prompto’s heaving gasps against his flesh.

“Prom,” he says softly. He gently disengages Prom’s hands from his shirt and redirects them around his torso, letting the smaller man rest his head against his chest. Prompto immediately wraps his arms around Gladio as tightly as he can manage; Gladio is seriously regretting ever underestimating the man’s grip strength. He’s definitely gonna have bruises along his ribs tomorrow. Still, it’s nothing he can’t bear, and he bears it more than willingly as he slides one hand up and down Prom’s spine while the other massages through his hair.

“Easy, Prom,” he murmurs. “Everything’s okay now. I’m right here, and I aint’ going nowhere. Just breathe nice and deep for me.” He breathes deeply himself to mimic what he wants Prom to try and do, and he knows Prom can feel it, pressed against each other as they are. It’s just a basic in and out, in and out, but Gladio deliberately keeps himself at a slower pace until he can feel Prompto’s breathing slide from straight gasping to shuddering breaths.

“There you go,” he says encouragingly. “Nice and easy, just you and me. Just keep breathing for me, okay? Everything’s alright. I’m right here.”

He keeps up with the slow strokes in Prom’s hair and along his spine, and soon enough, the triple-shuddering gasps ease into the occasional sob every four breaths. Gladio keeps up a steady stream of mindless chatter, telling Prom about stupid stuff like his workout goals and what piercing he wants to get next. When Prompto is mostly relaxed in his arms, Gladio finally relaxes himself.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks.

Prompto nods, even though he keeps his head pressed to Gladio’s chest.

“Can I ask you to do something for me?”

Prompto shrugs one shoulder.

“Can you tell me three things you hear right now?”

Gladio can feel the confusion run through Prompto’s body, but he remains still, waiting for Prompto to answer. It takes a moment, but he does.

“Your voice,” he says finally, muffled since he’s trying to have a conversation with Gladio’s left nipple. “Crickets, and the _Regalia_.”

“The _Regali_ \--oh, shit,” Gladio says. He’s genuinely confused until he remembers he didn’t actually shut off the car, just left it in park when he jumped out. He gives a soft chuckle. 

“Okay, you got me on that one,” he says. “How about two things you can smell?”

He feels Prompto take a big whiff of his chest. “Muscle man sweat,” Prompto mumbles, and Gladio grins.

“And?”

"... cologne?"

Gladio can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes him. “Nice job, buddy,” he says with a chuckle. “It's not even mine, it's Ignis'. I forgot to pack mine, so I've just been using his. Do you like it?”

Prompto gives a slight nod. "'s nice."

"Make sure you tell him later, then," Gladio says. "It's...I forget what it's called, something like Fucking Fabulous? Maybe."

He can feel Prompto make a motion that's either a hiccuping laugh or another set of sobs. He hopes it's a laugh.

“One more question, though,” Gladio says. “Tell me one thing you can taste.”

Prompto has to pull back a little bit to lick at his lips, but he still keeps his forehead pressed against Gladio. "Salty," he answers, voice cracking a little. 

Gladio pulls his hand from Prompto's hair to reach beside himself. "I have some water here, you wanna drink some?"

Prompto nods, and carefully unravels his arms from Gladio's torso. He glances to the side just enough to get a proper grasp on the bottle, and then turns his body around entirely so they’re sitting back to front. Gladio stays quiet as he takes small sips from the bottle, and waits until Prompto sets the bottle down beside them before speaking again.

“Better?”

Prompto nods. “Yeah,” he says, and his voice is much less raspy now. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Gladio replies with sincerity.

It’s quiet for the space of two heartbeats before Prompto’s grip on Gladio’s arm tightens. Gladio can feel his hands trembling.

“Gladio?”

“Yeah?”

“ _I killed a human being._ ”

***

In a very placid panic sort of way, Ignis wishes that he hadn’t waved Gladio off. He’s never been very good with other people’s feelings; hell, he can barely manage his own in a healthy manner. Ignis tends to think and act in practicalities. It’s not very conducive to maintaining relationships, he’s found. On a very good day, he’s considered efficient and effective. On the worst of days, he’s been called heartless and robotic.

His mode of processing does have its perks, though. He’s able to take care of Noctis with a detached ease, pulling strands of hair from his mouth with one hand while providing a calming, steadying weight on the back of his neck. When Noctis’ heaving slows to a stop, Ignis dampens a handkerchief and offers it to him. Noctis accepts it gratefully, wiping away bits of bile and drool that linger on his chin. Ignis exchanges the handkerchief for a water bottle, and they both sit back on the grass as Noctis uses the first few sips to rinse out his mouth. 

Neither of them say a word for a long while. Noctis holds tightly onto Ignis’ hand.

When the water bottle is empty, Noctis finally says something. “I broke my promise,” he says. “Sorry.”

“Which one?” Ignis regrets his acerbic tone immediately, but he can’t help it.

“Huh?”

“You promised you would try not to jump out of any moving cars for the rest of the day, and you promised me you wouldn’t look,” he states sharply. “For which broken promise are you currently apologetic?”

He _hears_ the edge in his words, and he knows it’s the last thing Noctis needs or wants right now. He tries to pull his hand away, but Noct won’t let him. He holds onto Ignis’ hand like it’s the last tangible thing in a universe that’s rapidly slipping away from him. Ignis presses his lips together and looks away.

Noctis isn’t having it. He sucks his teeth and swings his leg over Ignis’ lap in one smooth motion, letting go of Ignis’ hand to wrap both arms around his shoulders. He clings tightly and pushes forward until Ignis loses balance and drops to the ground. It takes some maneuvering, but Noctis manages to tuck himself against Ignis with his face pressed against Ignis’ heart. It’s practically an involuntary muscle movement at this point; Ignis wraps his arms around Noctis in return.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Noctis repeats. _I love you._ _I know you care. I need you._ “I shouldn’t have looked.”

“Honestly,” Ignis says, and Noct can hear the tears in his voice, “it’s not like I tell you these things to hear the sound of my own voice.” _I just need you to be safe._

They both laugh a little, and if Ignis cuts himself off with a subtle sniffle, Noct doesn’t say anything about it. “Are you sure about that?” he says instead. “If I had a voice like yours, I’d wanna hear it 24/7.”

“You’re getting much better at backhanded compliments, little prince,” Ignis says.

“Of course I am,” Noct fires back, the endearment warming him to the core. “I’m learning from the best, after all.”

Ignis finally lets out a true laugh, and Noctis considers his job done. Well, almost.

“I’m not sorry about jumping out the car a second time, though,” he says thoughtfully. “The lecture you would’ve given me if I’d hurled in the _Regalia_ just wasn’t worth it. I was ready to take my chances with the cold, hard earth.”   
  


Ignis shucks Noct’s shirt up and flicks a finger at his unprotected side. Noct yelps, but takes the punishment dutifully, and Ignis immediately smooths it over with an open palm and a laugh. It’s a sound he relishes above all others.

They lay together, tightly entwined and silent for a spell. 

“Hey...Iggy?”

“Yes, dearest.”

“Do you...do you think Dad and the others are really alright?”

Ignis considers the scenario. While he flounders at providing emotional reassurance, practical assessments of a situation are a specialty of his that Noctis has come to appreciate in their own right. “If we don’t run into them fleeing the city themselves,” Ignis finally says, “I will be both greatly surprised and highly suspicious of what they’ve been up to all this time.”

“But you think they’re okay?”

“Of that I have very little doubt.”

Noctis hauls back and punches Ignis square in the right tit. “Then why the _fuck_ did you let us leave Altissia?!”

Ignis gasps for enough air to answer, “Noct, it was evident you were going to attempt a return to Insomnia regardless of what _anyone_ told you, even myself. Far better to go along with you than to have you run off half-cocked and get yourself killed.”

“Half...go half-cock yourself,” Noctis grumbles.

“Noctis, _what_.”

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter! I said what I said. Shit.”

Ignis laughs. He pulls Noctis close enough to press a kiss to the crown of his head. “Regardless, we should reconvene with the others and sort out a plan,” he says. “It’s already well past dark, and I don’t think any of us are in a mood or state to continue driving. Perhaps a short rest is in order.”

They disentangle and pull themselves up from the ground, tactfully avoiding the splotch of mess from earlier. Hand in hand, they head back to the car, only to find it completely void of human life. Ignis is the first to check outside the car, and motions to Noctis when he spots Gladio and Prompto sitting on the ground across the way.

Prompto is sitting with his back against Gladio’s chest, and Gladio’s got his chin resting on top of Prom’s head. “Huh,” Noct says. “Wonder what they’re doing.”

“Most likely discussing their emotions like normal human beings,” Ignis surmises.

Noctis considers this. “Gross,” he finally assesses. 

“Agreed.”

***

“Hey, hey, hey, easy,” Gladio says. “Easy. Come on, just breathe with me. One, two...three, four.”

Prompto’s breaths have become shuddering gasps again after the vocal admission of what’s plaguing him, but Gladio refuses to let him drown again. He holds tight to Prompto, giving him the physical anchor he very obviously wants. Prompto clings to him, trying so hard to regulate his breathing to the slower pace Gladio is setting. 

“Come on, I got you,” he says quietly. “It’s okay. We’ll get through this.”

Prompto takes another gasping breath, and repeats, “Gladio, I killed a man. I killed a man.”

“Hey,” Gladio answers. “You saved Iggy and Noct back there, you know.”

Prom’s breathing slows a bit more at the assertion. “Y-yeah?”

“Yes,” Gladio says firmly. “You covered ‘em without a second thought. Do you regret it?”

“Wha--no! N-no way,” Prompto says. “I’d do it a thousand times over if I had to, if it meant saving them.”

“Then remember _that_ ,” Gladio says. “Focus on _that_. Don’t let the other stuff take root.”

Prompto considers Gladio’s words, thinks about how Gladio had joked about the scar on his face that he’d gotten protecting Noct, wonders what the story behind it is and what he’d done to the man who gave it to him. Wonders what else Gladio has done to people in Noct’s defense. Wonders what else _he’d_ do in Noct’s defense.

Well, he’s already got murder of a sort under his belt. Can’t get much worse than that.

“...Right,” he says, and his voice sounds feeble even to his own ears.

“I mean it,” Gladio huffs. “Besides, if anything, you’re putting these zombies out of their misery. Yeah, these people had families, friends, lovers--you think any of them wanna see their loved one like that?”

A chill runs down Prompto’s spine. “I sure wouldn’t,” he whispers. Even just imagining the scenario with anyone in his family, and Prompto knows. It would hurt immensely, but he wouldn’t hesitate to put one of them down, and he knows they wouldn’t want him to feel guilty for it. Somehow, it fills him with a fresh sense of resolve.

“Gladio?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Blondie.”

“Let’s go see how Noct is, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

When they pull themselves to their feet and finally manage to shake off all the pins and needles, they see Noct and Ignis waiting for them outside the car. With a shake of his hands and a steadying breath, Prompto leads the way, and Gladio follows closely behind.

“Hey, there,” Noct says.

“Hi, buddy.”

“You alright?”

“Mmhm. Better.”

“‘Kay.”

“You?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Noct sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, opens his mouth twice to say something, then mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck it,” and pulls Prompto into a tight hug. “Thanks,” he whispers.

It lasts just long enough for Prompto to get his wits together and return it, and then Noctis is pulling away. “Ever at your side, Noct,” Prompto says, and his voice is filled with such dedication that Ignis and Gladio exchange a look above both their heads. Ignis raises an eyebrow, but Gladio only gives a minute shrug. Ignis quietly tuts and rolls his eyes, as Gladio tries to hide his grin.

“At any rate,” Ignis says, “we should find somewhere to rest and recover for the night.”

“There’s a campsite a short ways back,” Gladio says excitedly.

“Camping?” Prompto is a city boy. He’s never been anything _but_ a city boy. He’s not sure if he should be as delighted as Gladio, or as despondent as Noct.

“I’ll drive,” Noctis says with a resigned sigh.

"You will _not_ ," Ignis snaps.

Noctis laughs, walking backwards toward the car so he can face Ignis. "Always the shotgun, never the shot," he says wistfully.

"That doesn't even make sense and I refuse to acknowledge it," Ignis states.

(They get back into the car, Ignis behind the wheel, Noctis riding shotgun, Prompto and Gladio taking up the backseat. If Prompto spends the entire six minute drive tucked underneath Gladio's arm, no one says a word about it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self projecting? in my fic? it's more likely than you think.
> 
> sorry for the trauma, boys, couldn't help myself.


	6. The Campsite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i remind you, dear reader who has come this far already, that this is purely indulgent hot trash intended only for whimsical entertainment. the world is crazy. ignore it for a while.

**VI.**

It’s not even a five minute drive to Emelle Haven, a flattened out piece of land that’s tucked on a hill away back from the main roads. They grab only the most basic camping gear from the trunk; circumstances being what they are, Ignis reluctantly declines cooking to his usual standards, and thus leaves the majority of his equipment packed up. 

Gladio turns setting up the tent into a beginner’s course on camping, teaching Prom the ropes as he goes along. He’s not entirely sure how much Prom retains, but he seems enthusiastic, so no harm done. Ignis gets a decent sized campfire going, and Noct pokes it a couple times with a stick so he can claim he helped. Once they have the site set up, Noctis immediately crawls into the tent and calls for someone to wake him when whatever they’re having for dinner is ready. The joke’s on him as, a mere five minutes later, Prom enters the tent to rouse him as their Cup Noodles are ready.

With a minimal amount of fussing, Noct exits the tent, only for everyone to realize they only have three chairs for four men. Noct easily remedies the situation, snagging both his noodles and Prom’s waist, and pulling them together in his lap as he sits in his chair. 

“Ah-haha!”

Prompto’s protests are on the inarticulate side. He’s not really sure how to react to this position, especially in front of Noct’s  _ boyfriends _ . But neither Ignis nor Gladio have anything to say about it as they settle into their own chairs, so Prompto simply settles himself in Noctis’ lap and eats his noodles like the rest of them.

“Best meal you’ve made in a while, Specs,” Noct says with a smirk.

“I’ve already thought of a wonderfully vegetarian variant you can taste test for me,” he responds.

Prompto giggles. He hasn’t known Noct for as long as the other two, but even he’s aware of Noctis’ legendary distaste for vegetables.

They finish dinner, and decide that sleeping should occur in shifts. Gladio and Ignis graciously offer to take first shift, allowing Prom and Noct first shot at some decent rest. Noct is subtly pleased, but Prompto can barely contain his delight.

“Oh yeah,” Gladio says. “You mentioned it’s been a few days since you had a proper rest.”

“HA,” Prompto blurts out, “yeah.”

“Well, perhaps later you’ll regale us with the tale of your journey, but for now, I believe it’s best you two settle in,” Ignis says.

The tent is laid out with their camping pads, sleeping bags, and the pillows Prompto scavenged. Prompto belatedly realizes he doesn’t have a sleeping bag, but once again, Noctis provides a solution. Without a moment’s hesitation he pulls Prompto into the fold of his sleeping bag, ignoring the other man’s squawk of protest.

“You’ll get cold otherwise,” Noct says, and zips the two of them in together. 

They squirm a bit, trying to find a position where everyone’s limbs are happy, and then settle out. Neither of them mention the fact that it’s at least 95 degrees out, even at night.

“Good?”

“Uh, yeah. Kinda...cozy, huh.”

“‘S perfect,” Noct says, already burrowing into his spot laying flush on top of Prompto.

“Ignis and Gladio won’t mind?”

Noct snorts, opens his mouth, closes it, and then grins devilishly. He scootches up so he can prop his head on his hand and look down on Prompto. “Should they mind, Prompto?”

For a split second, Prompto almost blurts out, “Yes, yes, they really should,” and then the moment passes when Noct chuckles. He flops back down, but rolls to the side as he says, “Just kidding. They won’t care. They’ll probably be glad for a night away from the Noctopus.”

“Noctopus?”

Noct resumes his previous spot, entangling his arms and legs around Prompto and resting his face against Prompto’s chest. “I cling,” Noct says simply. 

Prompto laughs, and the sound reverberates through Noct’s chest. “Well, if they don’t mind, I sure don’t,” he says, ending the sentence with a wide yawn. “Sorry.”

“Nah,” Noct says. “I’m sleepy, too. Missed nap time today.”

Prompto would have laughed if he didn’t know his friend was entirely serious. “Night, Noct,” he says instead.

“Night, Prom.”

***

Gladio fixes them each a cup of instant coffee in a travel mug before returning to his chair beside Ignis. He nudges the other man’s arm with the back of his hand, and Ignis mutters his thanks as he accepts the cup.

“Any news?”

Ignis shakes his head, and takes a sip. “Nothing, I’m afraid,” he says calmly.

His face remains placid, but Gladio knows better. Even if he doesn’t have any blood relatives in Insomnia (or anywhere else, as far as Gladio knows), Ignis still considers Regis Lucis Caelum the closest thing to a father figure he has in his life. The Lucis Caelum-Amicitia conglomerate is not just his employer, but his family as well.

“Thoughts?”

Ignis breathes in deeply, and lets it out slowly. “Best case scenario, we simply keep missing each other during periods of spot outages in cell service,” he says. “Or, their cell phones are indisposed and they haven’t the means or time to acquire new ones, but they themselves are fine.”

“Worst case?”

Ignis lips thin. “Do I really need to spell that out, Gladiolus?”

Gladio shrugs, and stares forward. “Ignoring it ain’t gonna do any good, either,” he says, but neither does he voice the thought aloud. “Which do you think is more likely?”

“Honestly,” Ignis says, “I believe the lot of them are alright, and simply unable to communicate with us at the time. Regis is quite the resourceful man, and even I don’t know the extent of his network.” He drinks deeply from his coffee, gazing off in contemplative silence.

A small part of Gladio’s fears are assuaged by Ignis’ admission. If he genuinely thinks the most likely sequence of events is one resulting in their families being safe, then Gladio is inclined to believe him. Noctis is safe for the moment; he’s got no doubt the princess conked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. Prompto, well...if he’s feeling any residual anxiety, Gladio has a sneaking suspicion that just being around Noct will take care of it.

That just leaves the man sitting in front of him.

“How’re you holding up?”

Ignis pretends not to have heard him, though he knows Gladio will see right through the act. He slurps noisily on his coffee and continues to stare straight ahead.

“Ignis Desiree Scientia, I asked you a question,” Gladio says.

Ignis sputters as he attempts not to spew coffee everywhere at Gladio’s use of his middle name. He thoroughly regrets the night of drunken Truth or Dare that led to the disclosure.

“Fuck you.”

“Mm, I mean, usually I’d say yes, but do you really think now’s the time and pla-- _ owww. _ ” Gladio cuts himself off as Ignis leans over and tweaks the closest nipple he can reach. Gladio covers his abused nipple as Ignis retreats back to his chair, but Gladio is undeterred. “Ignis, I’m serious. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Ignis aggressively downs the rest of his coffee, slams his mug on the ground, and pulls himself out of his chair. He turns towards Gladio and swings a leg on either side, settling himself against Gladio’s lap.

“Okay, well, this  _ definitely _ isn’t good, if you’re taking pages from Noct’s book,” Gladio says, holding Ignis steady by the hips.

“Sometimes a radical change in strategy is a necessary move in order to win,” Ignis states. He leans in to press a kiss against Gladio’s lips, but Gladio turns away at the last second, and the kiss barely brushes his jaw.

“And what exactly are you winning by being emotionally repressed?”

Ignis freezes, and then the tension drains from his body in an instant. “Am I?” he says absently, but not angrily. He’s asked both of his boyfriends to do this to him, after all; to tell him when he needs to talk, to refuse to let him shut himself away.

“You are.”

A coyote howls in the near distance, but neither Ignis nor Gladio looks over for as long as the sound reaches their ears. 

“I just...I don’t like not knowing,” Ignis finally says quietly.

Gladio chuckles lightly. “Understatement of the year,” he says, sliding a hand up and down Ignis’ spine. “Anything else?”

Ignis is silent for a while, resting his head against Gladio’s shoulder, and he’s grateful that Gladio just lets him exist for a moment in time. “I’m--scared,” he whispers. “What if I’m wrong? What if--”

“Then we deal with it if it happens,” Gladio says. “No use borrowing trouble, right?”

Ignis gives a shaky laugh. “You say that like it’s so simple,” he says.

“It really is, thought,” Gladio replies. “Repeat after me: we’ll deal with it if it happens.”

He scoffs, but Ignis dutifully repeats, “We’ll deal with it if it happens.”

“Good boy.”

“Oh, now you’re just asking for it,” Ignis immediately retorts, pulling back to aim a direct glare. “Arsehole.”

Gladio laughs and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Ignis’ lips. “Maybe so,” he says.

Ignis extracts himself from Gladio’s grasp and returns to his seat with a huff, but the time they spend awaiting the rising sun passes by in affectionate silence.

***

Later the next morning, a while after he and Gladio switch places with Prompto and Noctis, Ignis is the first one out of the tent. The sight that greets him at the edge of their campground fills him with exasperation and fondness: Noctis is fully asleep with his head in Prompto’s lap, while the blond boy dutifully sits awake and watchful, idly stroking his hair.

“Prompto.”

“Hmm? Oh, wow. Thanks,” Prompto says, accepting a cup from the thermos of coffee Ignis had prepared before going to sleep earlier.

“Did you sleep well?” Ignis has got a cup of his own, and three opened packets of sugar to go with it.

“Amazing, actually," Prompto replies.

Ignis glances downward. “Even given Noctis’ propensity to...ah…” 

“Noctopus?” Prompto grins, and Ignis flushes slightly. “Nah, it worked out perfectly. I usually sleep with a weighted blanket anyway, so I didn’t mind at all. Best sleep I’ve gotten in a while.”

“That’s good to hear,” Ignis says warmly, and he truly means it. The two of them enjoy a companionable silence, with only the faint sound of Noctis’ open-mouthed breathing hanging in the air between them. 

“I like your cologne,” Prompto suddenly says apropos of nothing at all.

“Pardon?”

“Your cologne,” Prompto says, ducking his head to hide his furious blush. “I, uh. Gladio said to--it’s yours, isn’t it?”

Ignis is quiet for a beat, and then: “Fucking fabulous.”

Prompto absolutely burns. “I’m sorry,” he blurts, “I didn’t mean to overstep or--”   
  


“Ah,” Ignis interrupts with a quick chuckle. “No. Apologies. That’s the name of the cologne, ‘Fucking Fabulous.’ It’s by Tom Ford.”

“Oh. OH! Oh em gee, that’s embarrassing,” Prompto says, threading a hand in his hair. “Now that I think of it, Gladio definitely mentioned it was called that.”

“Really? I’m surprised he managed to recall the name.”

Prompto shrugs. “Maybe he really likes it? It does smell nice.”

“I appreciate the compliment.”

They fall silent again, but it’s not heavy. At some point, Ignis gets up to start a fire for some fresh coffee, but he returns to Prompto’s side once the kettle’s set up.

“You mentioned you had gone home to Gralea,” Ignis says. “Did you have a pleasant visit?”

“Oh, yeah,” Prompto says quickly. “I mean, it obviously got cut short, but it was still nice seeing Nea for a bit.”

“Nea?” Ignis asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Oh! Right, yeah, Aranea, she’s my sister,” Prompto explains. “Like, sorta adopted kinda thing, it’s a little complicated.”

Before Ignis can respond, a grumble resounds from the Noctis-shaped lump in Prompto’s lap. “Too much noise,” it says.

“Then wake up,” Ignis says, a bit overloud. 

“Neverrrrrr,” the lump hisses.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to have breakfast without you,” Ignis says.

“Is breakfast eggs benedict with a side of home fries?”

“Pardon my Tenebraen, but  _ putain tu plaisantes _ ?”

“Then I’m going back to sleep,” Noctis says. He barely passed Tenebraen in high school. It’s a testament to how often Ignis says that phrase to him that he understands what it means, even half awake.

“But then you’ll miss the story of how I got here,” Prompto exclaims. 

Noctis stills, grumbles, and then reluctantly pulls himself into an upright position, albeit leaning heavily against Prompto’s side. “Only ‘cause I really wanna know how you got a Glock and a chainsaw,” he says.

“A Sig Sauer,” Prompto corrects. “And that part’s easy: I’ve had this thing since I was twelve. The chainsaw is new, though...”

Prompto delves into the story of how he ended up in their car, starting from his arrival back at home in Gralea. He and Aranea had enjoyed a handful of days simply catching up as siblings do, before the crisis broke out. Of course, they were both immediately worried for their father, who just happened to have left for Insomnia on business only days prior. Aranea, as a Commodore in the Nifleheimir Air Force, was called to duty and couldn’t leave the country for long, but Prompto could. She did what she could, though. She loaded him up with as much ammo as he could carry and flew him as far as possible, which ended up being Lestallum, before she started getting reports of Insomnia being a no-landing zone.

After promising her he’d be careful, Prompto managed to hitch a ride further east, as far as Wiz’ Chocobo Post, to his delight. The situation there, he found, was much more dire. They’d already had an incident with an infected, and were incredibly wary. But once he’d proven he was safe, the remaining staff there was very helpful. They let Prompto stay the night, even gave him a battery-operated mini-chainsaw, and although they didn’t have any spare vehicles, they allowed him to take one of their chocobos to continue his journey. 

Gladio finally rouses and joins them at this point. Breakfast is nothing more than a bunch of granola fruit bars in differing varieties, but Gladio stuffs one in his mouth as he goes about dismantling their camp. After disappearing for a bit to have a makeshift bath with some bottled water and a T-shirt, even Prompto does his part to help out by hoisting Noctis over one shoulder when he refuses to budge from his spot on the ground. The move is met with much screeching, and Prompto only manages to haul him halfway to the  _ Regalia _ , but the lightheartedness is almost enough to make them forget about the world around them.

When they get to the car, Noctis calls, “Dibs on the emotional support tank,” and jumps into the backseat with Gladio. The larger man doesn’t even blink, and raises his arm so that Noctis can slot himself against Gladio’s body, seatbelts be damned. Prompto buckles himself into the passenger side, and, after double-checking that they have everything and everyone, Ignis pulls the car back onto the road to Insomnia.

Gladio reminds Prompto that he was in the middle of a story. “What happened to the chocobo?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah! Well. Haha. That’s a funny story, actually…”

He proceeds to tell them how he’d gotten maybe half an hour into the desert proper when they were intercepted by a stray pack of voretooths. It had been such a sudden thing, and Prompto’s chocobo had the same temperament as the man himself; that is, they both startled rather violently. Unfortunately for Prompto, that meant he’d gotten tossed from the chocobo’s back as the chocobo ran for safety. The voretooths had been distracted by the fleeing bird long enough for Prompto to get his shit together, and when they turned back to him, he’d been ready with his loaded Sig.

After that disaster, Prompto began his trek towards Insomnia on foot, grateful that he was lucky enough to still have enough cell connection to check his map application. Unfortunately, his luck wasn’t  _ that _ great, as the next time he reached a crossroad, his service had cut out again.

He had pulled on every last dreg of survival knowledge his dad had instilled in him and picked a direction, but--

“Ah,” Ignis says, trying and failing to hide the curve of his lips. “That explains why you were headed in the  _ opposite _ direction from Insomnia when we, er, ran in to you, as it were.” 

“I would have figured it out soon enough!” Prompto exclaims in response, and everyone in the car laughs. 

They share stories for the next hour of their journey, and for that hour, they can almost pretend they’re just four friends on a birthday road trip, and nothing is wrong with the world.


	7. The Oracle

**VII.**

The shrill sound of Noctis’ ringtone startles them just outside of the Crown City Checkpoint. For a moment, they all stare, either at each other or the phone itself, before Noctis scrambles to pick it up. He sets it on speakerphone.

“ _ Hello? _ ”

“Noctis,” comes Luna’s sweet voice. “Thank  _ Shiva _ .”

They’re all mildly upset that it wasn’t a call from Insomnia, but a call from Luna is just as appreciated. “Are you guys okay?” Noct asks.

“Mmhm,” she says hurriedly. “We’re fine, but you--have you reached the city yet?”

“Not quite,” Ignis calls. “We’re approximately fifteen minutes outside the Crown City checkpoint.”

“Then I’ve managed to contact you just in time,” she says on a rush of air. “They’re going to chem bomb the city.”

Ignis pulls the car to the side of the road, and it's silent for a moment as they all process her statement. “I’m sorry,” Noctis finally says. “They’re going to  _ what? _ ”

“Chemical bomb,” Prompto says, and they’re all surprised at what he says next. “Based on the symptoms reported on the news about the infected, I’m guessing either nerve gas or an asphyxiant. Heck, if the rumors of this being an accidental release of a bio weapon in development are true, they might even already have a weaponized dispersal method for an antidote.”

Luna recovers first. “Ah...er, actually, I’m not sure who that was, but he is correct,” she says. “It's preferable that such an important global power as Insomnia remain as infrastructurally stable as possible, and our identified enemy consists of entirely organic beings. A chemical bomb is the most logical way to preserve both human life and the buildings of the city itself.”

The car is dead silent for a moment, until Gladio speaks up. “Is it, like, cute blonde standard to know intimate details about weapons of mass destruction, or…” He trails off, glancing towards Prompto in the front seat.

Prompto only blushes, but Luna speaks up. “Oh, shut up and quit being jealous that someone else knows big weapons better than you for once,” she says. Both Ignis and Noctis break into poorly concealed snickering, and Gladio flips them off. 

“And if we’re talking cute blondes,” Luna continues, “that wouldn’t happen to be Prompto Argentum, would it?”

“Oh, yeah,” says Noct. “I forgot you guys have never actually met. We found him in the middle of the road, Luna. Ignis almost committed vehicular homicide.”

“Manslaughter,” Ignis corrects.

“You told her I’m  _ cute _ ?” Prompto hisses.

Noctis shrugs, and Prompto groans, slumping into his seat. “It’s nice to finally sorta meet you, Lunafreya,” he calls out.

“Likewise, Prompto, and please, just Luna is fine.”

"A-anyway," Prompto says, still a pretty shade of rose, "how did you find out they're gonna wash the city?"

"It's on the news," Luna answers back. Ignis immediately switches the radio on, mentally berating himself for not doing so sooner. Sure enough, a broadcaster is discussing the current situation in Insomnia, mirroring what Luna tells them. "They've issued immediate evacuation orders for everyone in the city, there’s sections of the city under quarantine, they've got squads of armed guards escorting people to the checkpoint--"

"Shit," Gladio says. 

"--have to pass a health check before they'll let you out," she finishes. "I have no idea how to get you  _ in _ ."

"How long are they giving people to evacuate?" Ignis asks, cutting straight to the heart of this new development.

Luna sighs. "I saw the news last evening, not long after you left," she says. "By now...you've got until tomorrow night."

“Happy fucking birthday to me,” Noctis says glumly.

No one really has any reply to that, but Gladio places a comforting hand on the back of Noct’s neck.

“If it’s any consolation,” Ignis finally says, meeting Gladio’s gaze in the rearview mirror, “I believe I have an idea as to how we can get into the city.”

“You do?”

“The sewers.”

“Aw, man,” Prompto says. “Why’s there always gotta be a sewer involved?”

Gladio’s face registers confusion. “But the Insomnian sewer system only stretches just beyond the wall,” he says. “There’s nothing connecting mainland Lucis to the capital besides the bridge.”

Silence falls over the car for a tense few seconds. Noctis can feel Gladio’s entire body tense before he speaks again. “There’s something connecting mainland Lucis to the capital,” he corrects himself flatly, “and you know where it is.”

“Gladio--”

“Am I really just some glorified punching bag? I’m his bodyguard, too, I should  _ know _ \--”

“ _ Gladio _ ,” Ignis says sharply. “This is hardly the time, place, or company in which to have this conversation. Lady Luna, thank you for the information, but I believe we best make haste.”

With hastily spoken goodbyes and good lucks, they disconnect the phone call. It’s mostly in silence that they drive another ten minutes towards the checkpoint. Prom tries to keep up a light conversation with Noct, but between Gladio’s silent brooding and Ignis’ clenched jaw, it’s hard to maintain the mood.

They’re nearly there when Noctis reaches forward to tap Ignis on the shoulder. “Hey, mind if we make a quick stop?”

Ignis sighs through his nose. “In case you haven’t noticed, we are a bit pressed for time,” he starts, then stops as he registers where they are. Both Regis and his son are severe autophiles, and although there are innumerable mechanics much closer to home, none other will do than the grandfather-granddaughter duo of Cid Sophiar and Cindy Aurum.

“A quick stop, then.”

He pulls the  _ Regalia _ into the lot at the Hammerhead Station and parks in front of the garage’s bay doors. They’re pulled shut, and the place looks deserted. Only two vehicles remain in parking spaces, Cindy’s tow truck nowhere to be found. 

“That’s a good sign, right?” Gladio says, nudging Noctis.

“I wanna take a look around to make sure,” Noct answers.

“I feel like I should say something here about unnecessary risk,” Ignis drawls.

Gladio bristles. “If he wants to make sure they’re not here, then let him,” he bites. He’s already opening the car door. “Come on, Blondie, let’s secure the area.”

“O-okay,” Prompto says, glancing between Ignis and Noct before jumping out. With a sigh, Ignis pops open the trunk so Gladio can grab his sword. He and Noctis carefully watch the pair until they disappear around the side of the building.

“Sooooo,” Noctis says, wrapping his arms around Ignis’ shoulders, seat and all, from behind. “You mad at me?”

“No.”

“But you’re mad at Gladio.”

“No.”

“Irritated, then.”

“No.”

“Ah, I see now. He has roused truly the worst of your emotions: disappointment.”

Ignis attempts to turn around, but Noctis holds him tight. He settles for glaring at the rearview mirror, green eyes narrowed behind his lenses. “Are you so insistent on fabricating a fight between the two of us?”

“Nice, I nailed it,” Noctis replies. “Why are you disappointed?”

Ignis considers making up a lie he knows Noct will at least pretend to believe, but it’s rare enough that Noctis ever wants to talk about feelings, anyway. “Many of the skills this trip has revealed were not things I voluntarily learned, and Gladio considers himself inferior to me for it,” he says. “Contrary to popular opinion, I do not thrive on viewing myself as superior to everyone around me.”

“Me-ow, that’s a lot of feelings,” Noct says, scrunching up his face in disgust, and Ignis chuckles. “So uhhhh...lemme see. You want Gladio to...stop being jealous of you ‘cause you’re street smart? Because you don’t like that you’re street smart?”

Ignis nods slowly. He’s never shared much of his past with either Noct or Gladio, always defaulting to vague phrasings and dancing out of the conversations, but he thinks Noct might be starting to put it together.

“You ever, like, think about just, uh, you know,  _ saying _ that to him?”

“Oh, like you’re some paragon of communication yourself?”

Noct shrugs. “I give advice, I don’t take it,” he says.

The both break into laughter, and Noct stretches forward to affectionately rub his nose against Ignis’ cheek. Ignis reaches up to give his dark hair a quick caress, saying, “If that’s not the truest thing you’ve--”

He cuts off abruptly as they hear a triplet of sharp pops, evenly timed, and then silence. They both freeze.

“That was--”

“Gunshots,” Ignis says, already scrambling for his seatbelt, “yes. I presume you’ll accompany me?”

Noctis slams the car door shut and makes for the trunk. “I’m offended you even asked,” he says.

***

“So,” Prompto says, nervously discharging and reinserting his magazine a couple times, “you--”

“I was literally born and bred to be a human meat shield for Noct, like a fucking piece of cattle,” Gladio spits out when they’re just barely out of earshot of the car.

Prompto’s jaw drops. “Oookay,” he says, eyes wide as he stares at Gladio’s broad back. “Starting off heavy, cool, cool, I can--”

“They really were fucking right all that time--every single day, Prompto, every single shitting day,” Gladio continues. “Not a single day went by when someone wouldn’t remind me that I ‘only exist because Noctis does,’ or that a ‘scrawny little thing like me would be easily replaced,’ or--or--or, oh, my favourite, ‘why are you even applying to uni, big brains don’t stop a bullet!’”

“Shit, alright,” Prompto says, taking a sideways triple step to catch up to Hurricane Gladio. They’re just at the corner of the garage and dipping out of sight of the car, so Prompto does a frantic turn ensuring nothing is behind them. “Hey, buddy--”

“I was an idiot for ever thinking they were wrong,” Gladio is saying now. “I can’t believe I was so  _ stupid _ , how could I--”

“ _ Gladiolus _ ,” Prompto shouts, grabbing onto the much larger man’s arm.

It’s not any amount of physical force that causes Gladio to turn about face. He’s only heard Prompto reach that decibel level one other time, and that was during yesterday’s...incident. Prompto doesn’t say anything else, but Gladio can see him shaking with adrenaline. They stand toe to toe, brilliant violet against flashing amber, until Gladio lets out a deep groan.

“Sorry,” he says softly.

“Don’t be sorry,” Prompto says quickly. There’s a bit of an edge to his voice, and his eyebrows are furrowed. “I mean, yeah. This--this is clearly a very deep seated issue for you. Like, yeah, we’re going-- _ waaaaaay _ back, huh.”

Something about the way Prom sounds like an unpaid intern trying to fill in for his boss last minute gives rise to a chuckle from Gladio. “Uh, yeah,” he says, shifting the greatsword from his shoulder to rest the tip on the ground. “Sor--”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Prom interrupts. “No sorries. Never apologize for the way you feel.”

“S--right. No sorries.”

Prompto turns so they’re shoulder to shoulder, backs to the garage. “Does this particular issue have anything to do with the way you know how to handle an anxiety attack?”

“Uh...yeah, actually.”

“And Ignis knowing things you don’t makes you feel really bad.”

“I feel useless,” he admits. “What does Noct need me here for if Ignis has all the answers?”

Prompto doesn’t say anything to that, and Gladio glances at him. The blond is staring straight ahead, lips pressed in a line.

“What, no feel good answer for that one?” he jokes.

“No, I’ve got several answers,” Prompto says. “Just trying to figure out which ones won’t get me cold cased.”

Gladio chuckles, and gives Prom blanket permission. “Go with your gut: what does Noct need me here for if he’s got Ignis?”

“Your fat ass tits,” Prompto immediately replies.

Gladio nearly asphyxiates to death when he can’t draw in enough breath from laughing so hard. He sinks to the ground, clutching the sword for support as he tries to suck in some oxygen.

“Eh, you’re right, that is a bit insincere,” Prompto continues. “It’s more likely the way you’re emotionally available in a way Ignis isn’t, or the way you can both fire him up and calm him down, or the way you throw him over your shoulder without a single damn for ‘propriety’.”

“Wait--”

“These are all direct quotes from Noct, by the way,” Prom adds casually. “Let’s see, what else...oh, some of my favourites, ‘he makes better Cup Noodles than Iggy and don’t tell either of them I said that,’ ‘sometimes I deliberately slack off at the gym because he’s so cute when he’s being motivational,’ ‘when we’re cuddling, I just want to literally crawl into his ribcage and spend the rest of my life there,’--weird phrasing, but now I can totally personally verify that last one.”

“Wait, stop, I’m gonna cry,” Gladio says, voice thick, but laughing.

It occurs to Prompto that he might damn well be flirting with one of his best friend’s boyfriends, but the sight of Gladio losing all composure is a lure no being can resist. “Ah,” he says, going in for a decisive _coup_ _de grâce,_ “and my personal favourite: ‘Gladio is my favourite napping surface. And not even for the titties’--I told you, he loves your tits-- ‘but his voice. And like, usually Ignis wins the voice department, but when Gladio’s reading out loud, he unconsciously does the voices--and I know he’s not doing them on purpose, cause they suck--it’s the fucking cutest thing in the world, and I hate it.’”

“Oh my gods,” Gladio wheezes, pulling himself back to a standing position, “we’re definitely kee--”

He doesn’t get to finish his thought, because quick as a muzzle flash, Prompto’s left arm whips out against Gladio's chest, unexpectedly thrusting him back a few paces. The blonde quickly moves both hands up into attack mode, one cupped under the other as he grips his pistol.

"I heard something," Prompto says in the softest voice Gladio has ever heard.

Gladio follows Prompto's lead as they approach the corner. Somehow, it just seems like the best thing to do. Again. 

"Hey," Prompto says, halting them just before the bend. "Does Ignis know... all of  _ this _ ?" Prompto makes a vague circular motion with his hand, hoping it conveys his meaning.

"I mean, knowing him, I'm sure he knows things about me even I--"

His mini confession is interrupted by the  _ pop-pop-pop  _ of Prom's handgun. Gladio quickly swings around Prompto's right side, ready to take care of whatever is left, but Prompto is toeing the motionless body on the ground with a hard swallow and a shudder.

"Yeah, it's dead," Prom says, already searching for the next threat. The corpse on the ground has two noticeable holes in its skull, and another matching hole in its chest. "Things about you even you don't know?"

The whiplash between Prompto eliminating a zombie with militant efficiency and Prompto trying to assist his mental state has Gladio completely reassessing the younger man’s mental fortitude. He stares at the back of Prompto’s head like the answers are written on the inside of the man’s skull.

"Who the  _ fuck  _ are you?" he asks.

"Prompto Argentum-Leonis, reporting for duty," Prom says, and Gladio’s eyes widen. "We should probably clear the rest of the perimeter, though.”

Ignoring all the questions at the tip of his tongue, Gladio instead asks, “Are you...okay?”

“Peachy,” says Prompto, glancing one ast time at the corpse on the ground before letting out a soft sigh. “Gotta protect the pride, right? I think I...forgot that for a minute.”

“Right,” Gladio says with a slow curling grin. “Let’s get this done, then.”

Prompto takes second behind Gladio with a nod, motioning for the bigger man to take point. As Gladio inches forward with his broadsword braced in front of them, Prompto asks, “Have you ever explained any of your feelings to Ignis?”

Instead of a verbal response, Gladio suddenly swings his arm out, inadvertently slamming Prompto into the wall. “Shut up,” he says in a tight whisper.

“No, man, I’m serious,” Prompto says, wriggling under the firm hold. “Also what the hell, lemme go.” 

“So am I,” Gladio replies. “Shut.  _ up _ .”

***

“I mean, you’ve even admitted it,” Noctis says.

“Shut up,” Ignis replies. He rolls the glaive in his hand with a bit of wishful thinking.

“But really,” Noct continues, “and I somewhat accurately quote, ‘honestly, Noct, you play enough video games.’” The horrendous accent was probably unnecessary , but Noctis could never resist.

“I swear to all that is holy--”

“Which would imply that I have enough simulated tactical knowledge--”

“ _ For the love of Leviathan, will you shut. UP,” _ Ignis implores in a quiet hiss as he suddenly whirls on Noctis behind him.

“I just wanted to lead, damn,” Noct says, pouting as he avoids Ignis’ glare.

“You either want point and death, or you want to live,” Ignis says succinctly. 

“That’s a gross oversimplification of the situation,” Noct answers, “not to mention a complete disregard for my own abilities.”

“Your abilities won’t matter when I decide to murder you,” Ignis reminds him tightly. “Now, please,  _ shut up _ , there is something ahead of us.”

If one really wants to place blame for what happens next on a single individual, they  _ could  _ say it was Ignis’ own fault, for he is the one who leads himself and Noctis around the opposite side of the building that Gladio and Prompto had pursued, rather than following their path. They  _ could _ also place blame on Gladio, who, in chasing the slight shuffling he hears, leads himself and Prom right up to the corner to crouch in wait.

He points his hand at Prompto and then holds it up in a ‘stop’ signal. Prompto obeys, even the subsequent order to crouch down. When Gladio turns and communicates that he intends to flush their enemy, and asks for Prompto to provide support, he’s not only unsurprised when Prompto takes a full pace back, but somewhat turned on when the man holds his aim steady at torso level.

Gods, but he loves a man who aims to kill.

“So, just to clarify,” Noctis says quietly, standing just behind Ignis with his sword, “you’re going to kill whatever apocalypse monster pops out at us from around that corner, and then you’re going to find and rescue Gladio and Prom, right?”

“If I say yes, will you shut the ever-loving fuck up?” Ignis’ lower hand tightens on the glaive he’s carrying, forcing it to scrape against the ground a bit.

“For like, maybe 2.3 seconds,” Noctis promises in a whisper.

Ignis breathes in deeply through his nose, and lets it out through his mouth. “You’re lucky your father pays me so much,” he mutters.

Noctis lets out a choked snort. “I love you too, babe,” he says softly.

All things considered, it’s a miracle greater injuries weren’t sustained.

Just as Gladio signals to Prompto that he’s going to pop around the corner, Ignis springs up from his crouched position. Unfortunately for Ignis, Gladio just so happens to have the advantage of momentum. Before Ignis can bring his glaive up to counter, Gladio’s broadsword is quite literally in his face. There’s the distinct clang of metal against flesh, and Ignis is flat on his back while Gladio stares at him, horrified.

“Oh, shit,” he says. “ _ Shit _ .”

Ignis’ mouth is stretched open in a soundless scream, but that only lasts a moment longer. “ _ Ahhh _ ,” he chokes out, holding his hands to his forehead.

“Ignis,” Noctis whispers, before dropping to his knees.

“On the bright side,” Prompto states after peeping around Gladio and observing no blood on the scene, “you didn’t kill him.”


	8. The Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prooooooomptooooooo
> 
> almost there, guys. hope everyone is taking care of themselves. <3

**VIII.**

“Hey, Iggy.”

“Yes, Gladio.”

“How’s it feel being away from the wheel for once?” Gladio is sitting behind the passenger seat with Ignis stretched across the backseat, head cradled in his lap.

“Positively frightening,” Ignis answers, shifting the insta-ice pack to a slightly different spot on his forehead.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Gladio asks with a chuckle.

“That I’m no stranger to the little prince’s driving habits,” Ignis clarifies.

“Alright, fuck off,” Noctis says from the driver’s seat. “First of all, I’m a great driver. Second of all, I’ve got the wheel for five fucking minutes, quit being a drama queen about it.”

After Gladio had clocked Ignis with his sword, Prompto volunteered to run back to the car for first aid while Noct and Gladio fussed over the downed man. There really wasn’t anything more than ice packs and ibuprofen, and Ignis pretty much assessed and diagnosed himself, but Gladio was still fully apologetic and insisted on being a comfortable surface for Ignis to lie upon in the backseat. That left driving up to either Noctis or Prompto, and Prompto flat out refused to get behind the wheel.

Ignis tried to forcibly take the driver’s seat back when Noct performed a full burnout before screeching out of the service station, but Gladio thankfully was able to restrain him amidst Noct’s cackling.

“Hey, at least your friends are okay,” Prompto states. After dropping Ignis and Prompto back at the car, Noct and Gladio had found a note in the garage’s office saying that both Cindy and Cid had taken off for Lestallum as soon as news about the disease went national. 

“Yes, that is quite reassuring,” Ignis agrees.

It’s silent again in the car, save for the gradually accumulating thud of raindrops, and the rhythmic thump-swish-thud of the wipers as Noct engages them. Ignis tries to focus on that rather than the barely dulled throb in his head, wishing he had  _ anything _ stronger than ibuprofen. If he listens carefully, he can hear the splashy whoosh of another vehicle passing them by every couple minutes.

“Hey.”

Ignis cracks open a single eye at the rumble that resonates through his torso.

“I, uh...I’m so--I didn’t mean to make you upset,” Gladio says.

After a deep breath in and out, Ignis answers just as quietly, “Shouldn’t that be my line?”

“I--I mean, if Regis and Dad trusted you with that information and not me, that’s hardly your fault, ri--”

“I assure you, it was  _ not _ a matter of them trusting  _ me _ with certain information over you, Gladiolus,” Ignis says sharply.

Gladio’s fingers pause where they’re sifting through Ignis’ hair. “Okay, yeah, that’s probably just me projecting,” he admits, averting his gaze from Ignis’ hard stare. “I didn’t mean to imply they trust you more than me.”

Ignis’ jaw visibly tightens, and then he says, “If they had the choice, I wouldn’t know about these tunnels at all,” Ignis states. 

Gladio’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Before Ignis can give another vague reply, Noctis slows and pulls over to the side of the road. “Alright, everybody out,” he says, putting the car in park and turning off the engine.

Ignis rises from his prone position with a deep sigh, contorting his folded legs down onto the floor. “Later,” is his final contribution to their conversation.

The checkpoint is busy with military activity; they’re a half a mile out from the point itself, but they can see various vehicles and personnel patrolling the entire area. There’s a line of vehicles, bumper to bumper, but moving steadily away from the city. Ignis and Gladio bicker for a bit about the most viable strategy of getting across, ranging from straight up assault to putting on an entire three-act play. Noctis pouts as he leans against the car, playing with his soggy hair as he mentions how wet they’re getting just standing in the drizzle. Prompto is the one who puts an end to it when he points out that with all the commotion, they could probably slip past the checkpoint utilizing a tiny sliver of a passageway in the dirt off to the side. After Gladio does a bit of solo recon, they all agree to Prom’s plan.

Incidentally, Prompto is the only one visibly concerned when Ignis joins in on their weapon readying. “I mean, those are kinda sharp, and you may or may not be kinda concussed? Is this really the best combination?” He readjusts his backpack for the sixth time as he glances at the kukris Ignis is handling. “Is your aim gonna be alright?”

Ignis’ only reply is a pointedly raised eyebrow as he tosses a kukri several rotations into the air. He catches it, swings it around, and tosses it again, maintaining arresting eye contact with Prompto. Prom feels like he really,  _ really _ should, but he finds he doesn’t want to break eye contact for even as long as it would take to pick a direction in which to run.

Noct sighs heavily. “Please don’t maim my b--”

He’s cut off by a shrill scream from Prompto as Ignis tosses the knife a third time, and instead of catching it, he executes a flawless tornado roundhouse high kick that sees his right foot propelling the knife blade first towards Prompto’s general person. It’s obvious that he had no intent of causing any injury when the knife thuds into the concrete pillar behind Prompto a clear foot above his head, but considering the pillar is barely four inches across, the message is still received loud and clear.

Ignis saunters past Prompto and viciously yanks his knife from the rock. “What was that again about ‘aim’, Prompto darling?”

“Noct was  _ not _ kidding,” Prompto babbles, backing away subconsciously. “You are a  _ very _ scary man. Hot, but scary. So scary oh my  _ gods  _ I almost just  _ died  _ did you  _ kick _ a knife at me?”

Prompto looks like a half melted popsicle about to slide off its stick, and Ignis feels a smidge terrible. But Noct intervenes, tossing an arm around Prom’s shoulders and steering him towards their path. “Don’t worry, that’s just how Ignis says ‘I don’t think you’re irredeemably stupid,’ which is Ignisese for ‘you’re kinda cute,’” he says.

“ _ Excuse you _ , I told you that in--”

“Yeah, 'in confidence', blah, blah,” Noct finishes. He spins so he’s walking backwards and points at Ignis. “ _ You _ should know better than to kick knives at my...Prompto,” he says. Noct turns about face and keeps on towards their goal, Prompto trailing behind him. 

Prom glances backwards, hurries to catch up to Noct, glances back one more time, and then loudly whispers, “Ignis thinks I’m  _ cute?! _ ”

Behind them, Ignis sighs and tilts his face upward, pressing a wrist against his forehead. It's begun to rain proper now, and the droplets quickly accumulate on his lenses. "You make an objective statement  _ one time _ around that man," he groans.

Gladio chuckles. "Isn't that quintessential Noct, though? Give him an inch, and he'll take five miles," he says, clapping Ignis on the back. "C'mon, don't wanna let the kids get too far ahead of us."

The four of them make their way through the space between the noise barriers and the fence at the side of the road. It's broad enough that they could walk four across, but they creep single file closer to the checkpoint. When he realizes they're running out of barrier, Gladio hurries to the front and examines the narrower passage ahead.

_ Much _ narrower.

"Damn," Noct hisses. "And I'm being entirely serious for once, but Gladio, are you even gonna fit in there?"

They're quiet for approximately 3.8 seconds, all darting glances at each other in vague panic, until Prompto says on a wheeze of air, "That's what he said  _ sorry not sorry _ ."

Although he manages to keep from laughing, the corner of Noct's mouth instantly quirks upward, and he holds his hand low for a subtle fist bump with Prom.

Gladio rolls his eyes. "Real funny, team Twinks," he says.

"We're all going to be sorry soon if we don't get moving somehow," Ignis says, peering into the gap. He's not that much larger than either Noct or Prompto, but even he would just barely squeeze through. There's no way Gladio with his ridiculously bulky muscles is going to fit, and they can't just stand around waiting for the military to notice them.

Gladio immediately glances away, and after briefly ascertaining that the other side of the fence isn't just a writhing pack of cactuars, pulls his jacket off.

"Okay," he says, tossing his jacket to cover the barbed wire at the top, "new plan. I hop this fence. You guys continue on that way, I meet up with you later."

"What?!"

" _ Fuck _ no."

"Pardon me?"

Gladio is speechless as all three of his companions express distinct negativity to his plan.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Prompto says, "but we do  _ not _ have a very good track record re: splitting up."

"Yeah, I'm not letting you go get yourself killed because you're having a mid-life bodyguard crisis," Noct drawls.

Ignis' brow is furrowed as he chimes in. "I say this with every ounce of love I possess for you,” he says, “but that is an utterly shit plan."

Gladio throws his hands in the air. "Does anyone else have a better idea, then?"

"I mean," Prompto says, fidgeting a bit and rushing his words, "I'm kinda maybe a little bit claustrophobic  _ anyway _ so maybe we could all just, I don't know, maybe go over the fence? Together? Maybe?"

Some quick scrambling, a farther drop than expected, two excellent catches, and one flawless display of gymnastics later, the four of them are over the fence and hopefully on the last leg of their journey.

***

“Prompto, if you’re claustrophobic, will you fare alright in the tunnels?” Ignis asks just before they descend the ladder into the Crestholm Channels. 

The plan to jump the fence and traverse the adjacent abandoned construction site went off without any major issue. Prompto, actually, had a blast watching Ignis parkour his way across certain obstacles, and every time Gladio tossed him up to a higher level like he weighed nothing more than a bag of gysahl greens? Prom’s  _ glad _ all he’s sporting is a cherry red blush.

It takes him a moment to process Ignis’ question due to his distraction. “Huh? Oh, uh, right,” he says. “No, yeah! I’ll be fine, it’s not too bad. As long as I have space to spread my arms, I’m good.” He demonstrates by holding his arms out and swinging from side to side a couple times.

Ignis nods. “Very well,” he says. “I don’t think we will encounter any areas where that would become an issue, but I will endeavour to work around it if we do.”

Prompto gives him a grateful smile.

The ladder to the bottom is so long, it takes them a full minute to climb down. Gladio goes first and Ignis goes last, with Prom and Noct bracketed between them. Prom’s got his penlight tucked between his teeth, Gladio has their chunky camping lantern attached to his belt, and Ignis and Noct have the emergency flashlights in hand as they make their way. When they finally reach the bottom, Gladio and Ignis take a moment to orient themselves.

“This way,” Ignis says as he takes the lead.

It’s slow going; the channels are a tangle of different pathways, full of unnecessary dead ends and sudden, slippery drops. They keep spirits up by chattering quietly about things ranging from weird foods they hate to battle plans for if they encounter any zombies. The lulls are often broken by Noct’s incessant questioning (“Are we there yet?” “Ask one more time and you’ll get somewhere, alright.”) or Prompto’s impromptu concerts (“I’m gonna take my ‘bo to the old town road, I’m gonna ride ‘til can’t no more!” “Prompto,  _ please _ stop dancing in the middle of--Noctis,  _ stop encouraging him _ .”). They get turned around more than once, especially so when Noctis loses his footing and slides straight to the bottom of one of the drops. 

Thankfully at least some of his lessons with Gladio stuck; Noct manages to land in a roll that prevents any serious damage. But they still find themselves shin deep in sewer water and having to retrace their steps, which no one is happy about. The white of Noct’s T-shirt is but a distant memory, Prom and Gladio are fervently wishing they’d worn something with sleeves for all the grime they’ve accumulated on their arms, and Ignis’ hair has finally given up the fight completely, lying flat against his forehead. After performing what surely could pass as the qualifying test for the Malmalam Traveling Circus, they wind up in a large arena, utterly exhausted.

“Please,” Noctis pants, hands braced on his knees, “for the love of Ifrit’s sweaty balls, tell me we’re almost there.”

“Actually, we are,” Ignis states. He points out a door on the far side of the room. “Just through there, and then onwards to the city.”

“Thank fuck,” Gladio says. Even he’s feeling the exertion of their sewer adventures, and he’s got the highest stamina out of them all.

Prompto sings a little victory ditty. “Dude,  _ and _ we made it here without a single zombie encounter? How lucky can we get? All we gotta do is--what?”

Noctis, Gladio, and Ignis all let out simultaneous groans of dismay as soon as the words leave Prompto’s mouth. “ _ Prom, _ ” Noct hisses, “haven’t you ever heard of a fucking flag?”

“I advise you to utilise your handgun first, as you have limited ammo, Prompto,” Ignis says, discarding the strap he was using to carry his glaive. “Stay on the outer edges of the fight; pick them off at range.”

“Noct, stick close to me,” Gladio says, hefting the greatsword he’d been lugging around into a defensive position. “You’re quick and close quarters, so we can work together. Don’t want you getting accidentally caught by either of those two.”

“Right,” Noct says, holding Ragnarok in a forward offensive stance. “Gladio, you keep ‘em off me, and I’ll send ‘em to hell. Prompto, you headshot anything Iggy doesn’t outright slaughter.”

Prompto is  _ bewildered _ . “Haha, uh--guys,” he says nervously, pulling the safety off his gun regardless, “but, um. Why are you all acting like we’re about to get-- _ oh, shit _ .”

They hear the zombies before they see them. It’s a nails-on-chalkboard wail, singular at first, but quickly gaining multiplicity as other voices join in. It’s in surround sound, assaulting them from every direction but behind them. It’s honestly  _ terrifying _ , because none of them have ever had to deal with more than one of these things at once, and they have no idea what to expect as zombies begin to creep out from the various entryways around the room. 

“Just stay calm,” Ignis says softly. They stand warily as the zombies jerk and shuffle their way closer, at least a dozen in number. The creatures are in various states of disintegration, missing anything from just an eye to entire limbs, but all of them show signs of post-mortem decomposition. Darkened capillaries appear in stark contrast against paper pale skin, maggots and flies decorate their faces like piercings, and their eyes range from cloudy with blindness to crimson with blood. 

“Ugliest things I’ve ever seen,” Gladio says.

Noctis’ face crinkles in disgust. “I don’t want to go anywhere near them,” he states.

“I don’t even wanna  _ look  _ at them,” Prompto says with a shiver. “ _ Göttin segne uns. _ ” 

“I feel about the same as you lot,” Ignis agrees. “Shall we, then?”

***

_ “Noctis, on your left!” _

_ “Ignis, heads up--err, down--just duck!” _

_ “Gladio, gimme a hand?” _

_ “Watch your six, Blondie!” _

_ “No more Mr. Nice Guy--whoa!” _

_ “You sure know how to work a lance, Iggy.” _

_ “Gladiolus, SHUT UP.” _

_ “Guys, FOCUS.” _

_ “Out of ammo, switching to melee…” _

_ “Ignis, instructions!” _

_ “Noctis, on my mark!” _

_ “Princess, look sharp! Prom, eyes up!” _

_ “Eyes peeled, mouth closed!” _

_ “One last push should suffice to finish them off!” _


	9. The Confession

**IX.**

“Well,” Ignis says, breathing heavily, “I certainly would have liked to wrap that up a bit more quickly.”

Noctis gives Ignis a look of complete incredulity. The original dozen or so zombies had quickly grown in number as sounds of their fighting echoed throughout the channels. Based on the amount of scattered body parts all around, the four of them had to have slain at least thirty creatures. None of them appear to be injured, either, Noct notes with relief as he glances around. And Ignis is concerned that it  _ took them too long _ .

“Specs, are you for-fucking-real?” Noctis barely manages to pant out his question from where he slumps against the wall.

Gladio doesn’t even bother with words. He bursts into chuckles, bracing himself against his broadsword. His body burns with fatigue--swinging around a fifty pound sword for twenty minutes straight put a strain even on his sizable muscles--but residual adrenaline keeps him alert. "That's our Iggy, alright," he says, flashing a grin.

“Noct.”

“Am I wrong? It would have been beneficial on multiple levels to have ended that sooner,” Ignis defends. He’s glancing around the arena looking for his borrowed glaive. Out of everyone, he's covered in the most viscera, he's carefully wiping a mixture of fluids from his forehead as he searches.

“Yeah, but...dude. Zombies, apocalypse. Cut us some slack,” Noct whines. He gives Ragnarok a little shake to get the last of the guts off it. Something that looks like rotted sausage slides to the ground with a wet schlop.

“Noctis.”

“Keep slacking, get caught lacking,” Gladio says with a laugh. He flexes a bicep and kisses it. “Maybe if you had guns like these you coulda kept up with Prom, huh?”

“Only in my dreams,” Noct says brightly. “Prom was fucking  _ amazing _ with that gun. Dude, you definitely gotta teach me sometime.”

“Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Prompto says loudly, voice cracking halfway through Noct's name. It echoes throughout the chamber, making Prom blush in excess embarrassment. 

“Uh,” Noctis says into the silence that follows. “Yeah, that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“I love you.” 

Everyone freezes. It’s not like Prompto has never said those words to Noctis before, but it’s the wide-eyed, borderline hysterical stare Prom’s got Noct affixed with that lets him know that this is beyond just their usual. Gladio glances at Ignis, and Ignis worriedly eyes him back, but Noct stands as nonchalantly as ever.

“Pardon?”

“I love you,” Prompto repeats. “Like, I’m in love with you.”

Noctis looks to Ignis and Gladio, but both are wearing identical expressions of ‘don’t even think about dragging me into this you’re an adult deal with it.’ He sighs. “I’m sorry, come again?”

By now, the initial mania and adrenaline has worn off, and Prompto is starting to look annoyed. “I  _ love _ you,” he says yet again. “Romantically.”

“Sorry, I’m just not getting it,” Noct says. “A little slower, maybe?”

Prompto lets out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “I...love...you,” he says, enunciating each word with excessive clarity and gesturing like he’s playing charades.

Noct narrows his eyes. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s, uh, let’s take this one word at a time.”

Prompto’s starting to look like he wishes he’d saved at least one bullet. “I,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Uh huh, got that,” Noct says. “Next.”

“Love.”

“...riiiiiiiight, okay. And the last?”

“You.”

“Okay, all together now.”

“I love you.”

There’s a heavy pause where Noct and Prom simply stare at each other. Gladio is barely stifling his laughter, and Ignis is rubbing his forehead with one hand. Noctis finally breaks the quiet, saying, “Nope, still not getting it. Are you sure you’re not speaking Gralean?”

“I’m gonna fucking murder you,” Prompto hisses, hefting his chainsaw. “I’m speaking flawless Lucian, you  _ strudel fucker-- _ ”

“Ehhhhh,” Noct says loudly, waving his hand in a so-so gesture. “Close to flawless. You still have a bit of an accent, like when you’re pissed, or when you say--”

“ _ NOCTIS.” _

“Alright, alright, geez,” Noctis finally acquiesces with a nervous chuckle. “But, uh. Do you really think this is the best time?”

Prompto looks baffled. “I mean,” he says, lowering the chainsaw in a gesture of peace, “haven’t  _ you _ ever heard of a flag? We just survived a massive fight for our lives. This is pretty much THE time for heartfelt confessions.”

“It is a fairly common trope in horror movies,” Ignis interjects. He’s located his glaive and is staring at it with a grimace. “The post near-death experience revelatory sharing circle that inevitably brings the team closer, allowing them to conquer evil with the power of friendship and hastily improvised weaponry.”

“Right,” Noct says. “Cool. So we’re doing the whole ‘confess everything ‘cause we just realized we might die’ thing. Nice. Optimistic.” He reaches out to grab Prom’s hand and tugs him forward. “Come on, walk and talk. Ignis, lead the way.”

“If you weren’t so busy being his Highness, Prince of Darkness and Lord of the Edge,” Ignis says as he steps carefully towards the exit, “the point was that such bonding establishes a deeper trust between said individuals which contributes to the success of their maneuvers in staying alive.”

“I mean, the  _ actual _ point was that I just realized that this could be the beginning of the end of civilization as we know it, and there’s no one I’d rather spend my post-apocalyptic life with,” Prompto says, falling in step beside Noct. “But--”

“I actually have a really hard time verbalizing my feelings, it’s not just me being cute,” Noctis states. He tugs Prompto closer, switching from holding Prom’s hand to wrapping his entire arm around Prom’s waist. “I find it easier to express myself with physical contact. Gladio, your turn.”

“Me? Uh...I’ve had generalized anxiety disorder since I was thirteen, maybe before that,” Gladio says, gazing at the ceiling to avoid the stare he knows Ignis is giving him. “Kept it secret until Noct found me in the middle of an attack senior year of high school. Prom, you’re up.”

“Wha--me again?” Prompto verbally flails as suddenly all the attention is on him.

“First one didn't count,” Noct decrees.

“Ignis hasn't even gone once!”

“His is obviously gonna be the best, so he gets to go last.”

Prompto’s eyes narrow with suspicion. “How do you know his is best?”

“Because we know literally nothing about him,” Noct answers. “Hurry up, pick something.” 

“Fine,” Prompto grumbles. “Um...I spent the first six years of my life in a really terrible orphanage?" The uptick at the end of his sentence makes it seem like he's asking more than stating, but he continues. 

“Aranea and I managed to run away, but not before I got a complementary case of claustrophobia and a crippling fear of making people angry,” Prom finishes with a half-hearted pair of finger guns, and they all wait for Ignis’ confession. It takes a few moments of some pointed throat clearing, whistling, and staring until he feels annoyed enough, but he finally speaks.

“I grew up in Piztala-sous-Pagla,” Ignis declares with a sigh. All three of them stare at him, Gladio and Noctis in shock, and Prompto with confusion. 

“It’s just southeast of Pagla proper,” Ignis continues, mostly for Prompto’s sake. He knows both Gladio and Noctis know where Piztala is. “A  _ banlieue défavorisée. _ ”

“What’s a bonloo defavrizzy?” Prom asks, but it’s Noctis who answers.

“It’s basically Tenebraen for ‘ghetto’,” Noct says, his voice a low growl. “Like the slums in Insomnia. Except Piztala is a  _ lot _ worse.”

“Shiva’s shit,” Gladio mutters. “Piztala’s fucking infamous for--”

“Whatever you’re about to say,” Ignis interrupts, “I’ve lived it and got the most lovely souvenirs. I’m never going back and have happily moved on, if we may also do the same, thank you.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Anyone else have anything they must get off their chest?”

No one says anything for a while, long enough for Ignis to guide them through the door on the other side of the room. They emerge in a massive tunnel reminiscent of the one that leads into Lestallum, and Ignis swiftly crosses to the center. Dim safety lights are the only illumination they have, so Ignis shines his flashlight over all the walls as he searches for a landmark only he can identify. He’s glancing both ways down the corridor, muttering quietly to himself, when Prompto heaves a sigh.

“Well,” he says, “if we’re really doing this thing...I’ve also got a pretty bad crush on both of your boyfriends, Noct.”

“Ah, the truth is finally revealed,” Noctis says. “You were only using me to get to my boyfriends this whole time.”

“I--wha--that’s not even-- _ Noctis _ ,” Prompto splutters. “That is absolutely not true, you dense piece of--”

Noctis interrupts him by leaning in close and licking his cheek. “It’s cool,” he says. “I can’t sleep by myself without a nightlight.”

“Are you serious?”

Surprisingly, it’s Ignis who makes this query. “Uh, yeah,” Noctis says. “Did you...not know this?”

“You sleep with me all the time, and I can’t sleep  _ with _ a nightlight,” he insists.

“For someone who’s near obsessed with verbiage, you’re really missing the operative words on this one, Igs,” Noctis says, barely restraining his glee.

“If that’s your confession for this round, Ignis, I demand another,” Gladio says. “Everyone except Prom knew that one.”

“What’s yours?” Prompto asks.

“I’m addicted to historical romance novels,” Gladio says with a slight shrug.

“I smoke when I’m extremely distressed,” Ignis says dismissively. “Noctis, that was a bold-faced lie. You need to redo yours.”

“Eh, I’m with the princess on this one,” Gladio says. “He wasn’t lying. Weed, too? Or just the Parliaments?”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

“Definitely weed. I’m pretty sure he deals to Dad.”

Both Ignis and Noctis speak at the same time. Ignis looks as though he’s attempting to impale Noctis with sheer force of will alone. Noctis looks like the midgarsormr that caught the chocobo.

“I do not ‘deal’ to Regis--”

“Ignis, I’m not stupid, I know what a weed plant looks like,” Noctis says with a laugh. “You have, like, a dozen of them in your apartment.”

“--I provide a carefully cultivated strain of cannabis to help him manage his joint pain. And,” Ignis states primly, “as I have been most forthcoming, I believe it would be quite noble of you to do the same.”

“Hey, if you’ve got any audiobook recommendations, pass ‘em my way,” Prompto says to Gladio. “I like to listen to stuff on my morning runs.”

“Oh, shit, you go running? Dude, take me with you some time,” Gladio answers.

“I, Noctis Lucis Caelum, cannot sleep  _ by myself _ without a nightlight,” Noctis nearly screams.

“And yet you slept quite soundly last night in the middle of the wilderness,” Ignis shouts back.

Prompto rolls his eyes. “Oh, for the love of--because he was sleeping with  _ me _ , Ignis, he can’t sleep ‘by himself’ without a light.”

It takes a moment, but the emphasis  _ finally _ registers with Ignis, and he flushes a bright red. “Ah,” he says demurely. “Of course.”

Noctis is busy smothering himself with laughter in the crook of Prompto’s neck, and Gladio slings an arm across Ignis’ shoulders. “I’d offer you a cigarette if I had one,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh, fuck off,” Ignis says without much heat. He starts walking down the tunnel, gesturing for everyone to follow.

Prompto raises his hand. “Not to detract from the lovely camaraderie going on here, but is nobody concerned that I just admitted to having big feelings for three people already in a relationship?”

“We’d probably be more concerned if we didn’t also have feelings for you,” Noctis shoots back. 

Finally.  _ Finally. _ Prompto can practically hear the heavens opening up for him. “Like...for realsies?”

“Yes, for realsies. I love you,” Noctis ( _ finally! _ ) says. He even punctuates his statement with a brief but firm kiss to the corner of Prompto’s lips, and Prom thinks he may have just ascended to a higher plane.

“Love you,” Noctis repeats, although this time he mumbles, but Prompto doesn’t care. Noct can deflect all he wants at this point. “Ignis thinks you’re cute, and I don’t think Gladio’s boner for you has subsided once since we picked you up, might wanna get that checked out, Gladdy,” Noct continues with a smirk. “What is it, four hours or longer and you should seek medical attention?”

“Fuck you,” Gladio says, flicking Noctis a middle finger. “I have a type and I know it, sue me.”

“And neither one of you,” Prom says, pointing at both Ignis and Gladio, “is concerned that your boyfriend says he’s in love with me?”

“Prompto, darling,” Ignis says over his shoulder, “I knew Noctis loved you before he even did. I thought the two of you were dating months ago. When I accidentally called you his boyfriend, that’s when Noctis finally realized his feelings.”

“It’s true,” Noct confirms. “Interesting and awkward conversation that followed, but it was worth it.”

“Months-- _ duuude _ ,” Prompto whines. “If you knew, and he knew, and  _ he _ knew, and everyone was cool, why didn’t you say something?”

Noctis points a finger at himself. “Can’t verbalize feelings, remember? Plus, I had no idea you liked me like that. Why didn’t  _ you _ say something?”

“Because I was, like, 97% sure you were dating both of them, and I’m not a homewrecker,” Prompto shrieks.

Gladio gives a loud laugh. “You should ask Noct the story of how he got Ignis to date us,” he says.

“Or better yet, the story of how Noct asked  _ you _ out, Gladio,” Ignis adds.

“I know you guys are trying to shame me,” Noctis says, “but I stand by my actions one hundred percent. That guy shouldn’t have been touching you, Gladio, and Ignis, I’ll go through your trash a thousand times if I have to.”

They all laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of Noct’s statements, even if they all know he’s being perfectly serious. “So, Prom,” Noct says with a nudge, “if I end up having to heroically sacrifice myself in a tragic death to save you all, how many boyfriends am I gonna be survived by in my obituary? Two? Three?”

Prompto’s jaw drops. “That is the most morbid way I’ve ever heard someone ask someone out,” he says, punching Noct in the arm. Then he kisses him on the cheek. “Three.”

“Not to burst your dramatic bubble,” Ignis says, stopping suddenly to pull the  _ Regalia _ ’s keys from his pocket, “but chances of us dying before we reach the city are significantly slimmer from here on out.” He holds down a button on the fob, and five seconds later, an entire panel of the wall is sliding away to reveal a small alcove. Another button, and suddenly the tunnel is filled with bright light and the purr of an engine.

“Well, then,” Ignis says, making his way over to the driver’s side, “everybody in.”


	10. The Escape Route

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know we said 10 chapters, but i've been kinda distracted lately with work and covid and politics, and kinda fell out of the mood. but i didn't wanna leave the people who've been enjoying this so far hanging, so here's most of 10. it's a bit trash, but eh. there's also a little bit after, a tiny epilogue of sorts, that's almost but not quite finished.
> 
> as usual, thanks for spending your time on us, and have fun!

**X.**

From the outside, the car looks like an exact copy of Noctis’  _ Star _ back home, albeit a little larger to accommodate having a backseat. The inside, however, is an entirely different story. Despite the dim lighting in the tunnel, the cockpit lights up with various LCD displays. Ignis taps quickly through various menus and flicks several buttons on the steering wheel, giving them a brief overview of some of the car’s features: run flat tires, an omnidirectional chassis, bulletproof glass, voice command recognition, self diagnostic and safety systems, at least three different offensive systems, and automated window tinting. It’s probably the understatement of the year to say that Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto are all shocked senseless.

“Holy shit,” Prompto murmurs. He holds his hands out carefully, wanting to touch but feeling so, so unworthy to even be allowed to sit inside such a magnificent vehicle. “Holy  _ shit _ .”

“I can’t believe we have a Batmobile,” Noct says. He’s sitting shotgun and, with none of Prompto’s reservation, is reverently running his hands all over the dash.

Gladio is a little less enthusiastic in his shock. “What the fuck,” he grumbles, arms folded. “Why did no one ever tell me about this? This isn’t just some set of tunnels, this is...this is an entire evacuation plan.”

“This is a  _ getaway _ plan,” Noct corrects with a low chuckle as he reads through the options for minimizing their detectability by law enforcement. “You think Dad’ll let me borrow this for a sec when we get back?”

Ignis quickly cuts Noctis a sidelong glare before refocusing on the road ahead of him. “I found out about the tunnels entirely by accident. I followed someone I shouldn’t have,” he admits. “In order to minimize the security risk, Regis opted to fully inform me under oath that I would only use said knowledge in an emergency of Noctis’ wellbeing.”

“Fuck that,” Noct says. “Why did no one ever tell  _ me _ about this?”

“Noct, we’ve been in the car for less than five minutes, and you’re already trying to figure out how to become the IPD’s most wanted,” Gladio says. Prompto laughs.

“Be gay, do crime,” Noct retorts, flipping a middle finger over his shoulder. “Caelum family motto, I have to uphold our honour.”

“To be quite frank,” Ignis says, “if there ever is a scenario in which this knowledge is necessary and I’m not available, that means the two of you are already well beyond screwed.”

Gladio bristles. “The hell does that mean, I’m a great fucking bodyguard--”

“No, no,” Noct interjects, “he’s got a point. Iggy’s, like, the contingency plan’s contingency plan. He sees things twelve steps in advance. If he’s down, that pretty much means we made a fatal error, like, seven autosaves ago. No coming back from that.”

“Well, if Ignis knows everything, why am I even here,” Gladio grumbles.

Noctis pulls down the visor so he can stare at Gladio in the vanity mirror. “Big pouty baby,” he says. “You’re the best at keeping us moving in the moment. Iggy’s great at thinking. He’ll sit on his ass thinking about a plan of action for six hours before he actually does something. You’re better at doing. You’ll get a plan in motion five minutes after it’s finalized and just deal with any fuck-ups on the way.”

“Rude, but vaguely accurate,” Ignis says.

“I guess even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Gladio agrees.

“I know, I’m an omniscient genius,” Noct replies.

“Do you even know the meaning of the word omniscient?” Ignis asks mildly.

“Wh-wait,” Prompto says, leaning forward from the backseat. “If Iggy’s the tactician, Gladio’s the action man, and Noct’s the one who keeps those two from killing each other, what am I? The comic relief?”

Gladio gives a harsh bark of laughter, and Ignis lets out a low chuckle. “Don’t be daft, Prompto,” Ignis says. “You’re far more important than that.”

“Yeah, you’re more like our secret weapon,” Gladio says, punching Prom lightly in the arm. “Pint-sized powerhouse.”

“Don’t listen to either of these fools, Prom,” Noct says. “You have the most important job any man could possibly have:  _ snackbearer _ .”

“...sorry, what?”

“ _ Feed me _ ,” Noct whispers as he twists around in his seat.

It’s not until Noctis starts repeating himself in a whispered chant that Prompto remembers that they stuffed all the spare pockets of his backpack with granola bars and jerky. “Geez, buddy,” he says with a laugh, fishing out a couple packages and tossing them up front. “No need to get demonic.”

“Ereshkigal demands sacrifice,” Noct states calmly, shoving half of a blueberry granola bar in his mouth.

Ignis stares at him for a full five seconds before slowly commenting, “I’ll add ‘exorcist’ to the list of people your father should keep on retainer, then.”

***

It’s an entirely uneventful drive to the city. No surprise ambushes, no collapsing walls, not even a flat tire. What should have been the last hour of their trip turns into a cool forty minutes as Ignis pushes the speedometer, much to Noctis’ delight. It’s a welcome pace, after everything that could have gone wrong seemingly did over the past day.

The end of the tunnel brings them to a garage-like room that could easily house eight cars, but only three of the spaces are occupied with cars that look identical to theirs. Two of the exits are hardly visible overhead doors, large enough to drive through and marked only by the control panels mounted on the wall. The last is very obviously a set of elevator doors. Ignis reaches up to the three built-in garage opener buttons on the ceiling and, after holding down the leftmost one for a few seconds, steers the car towards the revealed passageway.

“Where’s the elevator lead to?” Gladio asks, twisting to glance behind them as the panel slides shut. They’re left in darkness for a moment before the headlights kick on.

“Ah, that lift is a direct line straight up to Regis’ office,” Ignis answers. “This particular exit is located directly beneath the Citadel, and this tunnel will let out in the parking garage.”

True to word, after several revolutions up the exit ramp, the wall ahead of them slides open automatically, letting them into the lowest level of the garage. Ignis doesn't stop, though, and continues driving towards the exit that will put them on the main roads until Noctis puts a hand on his arm.

"Wait," he says, "shouldn't we check and see if they're here first? We're all supposed to meet up at the Citadel if there's ever an emergency."

Ignis throws the car in park. "Ordinarily, I'd commend you for listening and actually deigning to follow instructions for once," he starts. "But under these extenuating circumstances, I'm not quite certain that would be the most expedient manner in which to find our...erm, people."

"It's okay," Noctis says, giving Ignis' arm a soothing pat. "I give you permission to call Regis 'Daddy'."

Both Prompto and Gladio burst into snorts of laughter, while Ignis tries yet again to set Noctis on fire via sightline, to no avail. "Do you  _ ever, _ " he bemoans, "think about the words that come out of your mouth."

Noctis opens his mouth to give a cheeky reply, but Gladio cuts him off. "Hey, enough, smartass," he says. "Iggy has a good point. Our parents are celebrities, they can barely take a shit without paparazzi tryin' to find out what colour it was. If they've left the city already, someone at the checkpoint  _ had _ to have seen 'em."

"Unless they left through those same tunnels things we came through?" Prompto looks to Ignis with a hopeful tilt of his head.

Ignis shakes his head in the negative. "Every entrance and exit to that system is connected to an alert system that will ping the administrators when it's used."

"Let me guess," Gladio says. "You're an admin, and you haven't gotten any messages." He doesn't even sound upset anymore, just...exhausted.

"I'm afraid not," Ignis confirms. "I usually have the application on silent, but I checked as soon as I remembered."

Quiet falls in the car as they all process this, until Noctis says, "I can't believe I'm heir to a crime family."

"Oh, for love of the Dawn--"

"Don't bring Eos into this," Noct argues. "For what other reason does one build an entire underground infrastructure and proceed to stock it with multiple Batmobiles if not for the nefarious and/or illegal purposes?"

" _ Anyway _ ," Prompto interrupts before the debate can go any further, "not to be that guy, but what happens if we go to the checkpoint and nobody's seen them? Do you really think they'll just let us waltz back into the city to double check?"

“They can’t force us to leave,” Noctis says sharply.

“It’s the  _ military _ , Noct,” Gladio says. “Pretty sure they both can and will.”

“I do agree with Gladio, however,” Ignis says. “At this point, it’s far more likely that they’ve already left the city, and simply haven’t had an opportunity to contact us yet. If they haven’t already left--or rather, if no one has seen them leave, then…”

He doesn’t finish the thought, but his jaw pulses as he silently grinds his teeth. Gladio’s hand tightens where he’s holding onto Noct’s seat, and Noctis himself pales considerably. Prompto glances out the window as he breathes deeply and swallows hard around the sudden lump in his throat.

“H-hey,” he tries, then clears his throat. “Hey. Listen. Even if nobody’s seen them leave, they probably just left before this thing was such a huge deal, like how Cindy and Cid booked it at the first sign of a mess, right?

“A-and, I mean, yeah, we don’t have the best track record, but we can go to the checkpoint and split up, two of us ask around and see if they left, and the other two can come back and do a quick search if it’s a no,” Prom suggests.

Noctis unbuckles himself and twists all the way around in his seat. “Prompto,” he says, and he’s got one knee on the center armrest and half his torso stretched into the backseat. Ignis grabs hold of his waistband out of sheer habit, grounding him as he reaches for Prom’s shoulders. Prompto, thankfully, meets him halfway and helps steady Noct, but before he can ask what’s up, Noct’s lips are pressed against his.

Prompto makes a surprised shriek in the back of his throat-- _ their first real kiss! _ \--but by the time he can gather his four and a half brain cells together to reciprocate, Noctis has pulled back and is holding Prom’s face in his hands. “I love you,” he says.

“Ah-haha-wha-ehh,” Prompto squeaks back. 

Somehow satisfied, Noct gives a single nod, and then maneuvers himself back into his seat. Gladio immediately tugs Prompto close into a one-armed hug and a firm kiss on the lips. It’s brief, but it’s there, and Prompto is reeling when Gladio pulls back and presses another one to his temple.

“Whaa--mmmkaaaay,” Prompto replies.

Ignis heaves a sigh. “So inconsiderate,” he says, before contorting himself over the shoulder of his seat. He’s tall enough that he can double over and still reach Prompto, if he ignores the surprised whooping from both Gladio and Noctis. He reaches out with a gloved hand to hold Prompto’s jaw steady for a quick kiss, promising, “I’ll give you a proper one later, yes?”

“Am I dead?” Prompto asks.

“Not quite,” Ignis answers silkily, “but I can escort you to heaven anytime you like.”

The deliberate engine revving Ignis performs does little to cover Noctis’ delighted shrieks, Gladio’s heaving laughter, and Prompto’s high-pitched whine of instant death.


End file.
